The Fantasy Basket
by Esme Incognito
Summary: Marriage is tough, even when it looks like you have it all. "He won't touch me anymore. He barely even talks to me. It's like we're just roommates. And since we had the baby it's gotten worse." The best advice about commitment, communication and even (gulp) reigniting your flame may be the one you're least likely to ask. AH, 2 stories woven into 1: B/E & Es/C
1. Chapter 1

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 4/16/12. Re-posted 11/16/13.**

* * *

**SUMMARY: **

What happens _after_ the happily ever after? This is the story of two women, two generations, two marriages, both on the brink of breakdown. It follows Bella who is struggling with the throes of new parenthood, a new house, and a new attitude from her once-attentive husband who is now more focused on his job and his image than his wife, and Esme, who lived through much of the same 20 years ago. Can Esme's advice about commitment, communication, and (gulp) sex help Bella save her marriage, or will she be written off as a meddling mother-in-law?

* * *

**PROLOGUE:**

April 2012, Bella POV

He stood next to his side of the bed and gaped at me as I left our room, stormed down the hall with my head held high, and gently clicked the door of one of the spare bedrooms shut behind me. I collapsed onto the lonely bed that sat in the middle of the otherwise empty and spartan room, trying to hold back both tears and angry, cursing rants. I buried my face in my pillow, anticipating the need to hide the noise from our guests, and he knocked quietly on the other side of the door.

"Bella? Bella, I'm sorry…" I ignored him, knowing that if I said a word to him now, many more words would come spilling out. Words that I'd regret, especially in front of his parents. "Bella?... Damn it!" I heard him shuffle back down the hall and close our bedroom door behind him. That set off the tears—what seemed like hours of them—as I repeated Esme's words over and over in my mind: _No dumping. Choose to stay. There's always hope…_

Esme POV

_Oh dear,_ I thought as I paused at the top of the stairs, a glass of water in each hand. I tracked the sound of muffled sobs to one of the spare bedrooms.

Carlisle thanked me, and, noticing the look on my face asked "What's wrong, Baby?"

"She's upset again—really upset. We raised that boy better than this, Carlisle."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

This will be the longest author's note, I promise (except maybe when we get to the end).

The Fantasy Basket will alternate between Esme's perspective in 1990 and Bella's in 2012. It's two separate stories woven into one.

This is a story about grown-ups, for grown-ups. If you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it. (It probably won't interest you, anyway).

The Fantasy Basket is 100% pre-written. It was previously posted, but I had to remove all but the prologue & epilogue when some RL stuff came up. (Those were the ONLY chapters I could leave up!) I was overwhelmed with the number of people who asked me to send them a PDF copy of the full story. Based on that, I thought there still may be enough Fantasy Basket love out there for me to re-post it. So here it is again under my new pen name.

I plan to re-post the chapters on Saturdays and Wednesdays, starting 11/16/13. I'm also posting it on fiction pad, in case the FFN people decide to delete it and all of your lovely reviews again. (The sanitized version was deleted—go figure).

The Fantasy Basket is my first full length story, so it certainly isn't perfect. I had a lot of help from my good friend and beta, Besotted. Please go check out her stories, too.

If you're a new reader, thank you for giving The Fantasy Basket a look. It's not your typical fan fic and I hope you'll review the chapters to let me know what you think.

If you're returning for a second read-through, thank you! I'd love to hear from you, too. Please review and let me know what you think.

I don't have much time for promoting this on all the social sites, so any recs or mentions would be greatly appreciated.

I hope you enjoy The Fantasy Basket and that it touches you somehow or teaches you something.

Thanks for reading! Now, on with the show...

Jen


	2. Chapter 1—Esme: A Typical Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 4/18/12. ****Re-posted 11/16/13.**

* * *

**Chapter 1—Esme: A Typical Day**

August 1990

I awoke to a peck on the forehead and a quick "bye" from my husband. He was halfway to the bedroom door before I could blink my bleary eyes into focus.

"You look nice today," I slurred from my sleepy haze. At least his backside did. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"Probably. I'll call you if not. Thanks for the shirts." _Huh—he noticed!_ I'd stayed up late ironing last night and dropped into bed next to his sleeping form way past midnight.

"k…" He didn't hear me. He was already gone. Gone for the day and probably most of the evening. Off to his other wife—the hospital, where he spent most of his waking hours. The garage door rumbled open and his car started below as I checked the clock—6:30 a.m. Ugh, my body craved at least another half hour of rest, but it was not to be.

"STOP IT, EMMETT!"

"HA!"

"EM, GIVE IT BACK!"

_Sigh, the boys are up_… and so began my day. A day like pretty much all the others, filled with chores, refereeing the boys, and driving. Driving, driving, driving. Whoever coined the term "stay at home mom" has obviously never been one, because I am NEVER home! I drove the kids to school, headed to the gym for my new "step" aerobics class, and got the grocery shopping done. After a quick stop home to put the groceries away and grab a bite to eat, I went back to school to teach art to Emmett's fifth grade class—the high point of my day. The lesson was called to an end by the ringing school bell, and it was time for the boys and me to climb back in the car and roll off to their practices.

"Hey Mom, look—I got a toof necklace! Isn't it cool? When I tried to take a bite at lunch my toof hurt, so I couldn't eat my sandwich. I ate my applesauce, though. And I wiggled my toof some more and it came out, so the nurse gave me this big toof necklace to put it in. Do you think the toof fairy will come?" My little guy was so excited. Oh, to be a child again and to find such joy in the little things in life like losing a tooth.

"Of course, Eddie-Bear. We'll have to put it under your pillow tonight. Give me a smile and let me see." He flashed a big, cheesy grin to show off the gap in the front of his mouth. _So cute with his freckle face and wild auburn hair. I'll have to take a picture when we get home. I hope there's some film left in my camera._

"That's no fair, Mom!" Emmett interjected. "My teeth never fall out at school so I never got a tooth necklace. I hope my next one comes out at school!"

_My boys…always competing with each other_. Being an only child, I'd never experienced sibling squabbles, but I was certainly getting them at full force now as a parent. _Sigh. It makes me tired._

"Life's not fair, Emmett. And do you really need a necklace, anyway? The tooth fairy brings you money whether you have one or not, right? Here we are. I'll pick you up at five. Have fun, Sweetie!"

I popped the hatch so he could grab his football gear out of the back. Then we were off to the soccer park for Edward's practice. I walked him up to the field where his team meets, chatted with his coach and some other parents for a bit, and headed back to the car. I had just enough time for a quick trip home to vacuum and start prepping dinnerbefore I had to jump back in the car to pick up the boys. Like I said… driving, driving. Home again to supervise homework and piano practice, referee more sibling squabbles, and cook dinner.

These were the details of my day. If you chose any day it would look pretty much the same. It might be Costco instead of the grocery store, or baseball practice instead of soccer, but there's not a whole lot of variation. I love my kids dearly, love my family, and I know how privileged I am to be able to stay home with them full time, but sometimes I wonder, _Is this all there is for me? Is this what I was put on this earth to do?_

As I chopped, measured, and stirred, my mind traveled back to my favorite café in Paris. I'm laughing with my friends, talking about art and travel and politics, enjoying a glass of wine with dinner, watching fashionable people walk by and wondering who they could be... The ringing phone jolted me back to reality. It was 6:15. _Of course. He's going to miss dinner… again_.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's me. I'll be late. I'm buried under a stack of charts. Go ahead and eat without me." Had I called that one right, or what?

"Ok…" I was distracted by my son's frantic tapping on my arm and pointing to the phone. I tried not to laugh at his eager face, eyes wide and lips squeezed tightly together against his desperate need to talk. He takes things so literally. I'd taught them that if they had to interrupt me while I was on the phone, they should keep quiet and tap my arm. I guess I should be thankful that he listened, but it was pretty funny to see him jumping around, dying to talk.

I giggled and tousled his hair. "Hold on a sec, Edward wants to talk to you."

I handed the phone to the excited young boy, who, with a slight lisp and a very loud voice, told his dad all about the lost tooth. He described in detail the unfinished peanut butter sandwich and the giant plastic tooth necklace that HE got which made his brother jealous. He described in detail that the tooth was already carefully placed under his pillow—right in the middle—so the tooth fairy would be able to find it even if she came early, as long as Emmett didn't steal his pillow like he did this morning. I could faintly hear my husband's enthusiastic replies to Edward's story.

"Really?... Wow!... That's great!" Even though he works so much, he really is a wonderful and attentive father. I smiled and realized that this was one of those memories that I should store away in my brain to recall someday when he's a big, sullen teenager who refuses to talk to his parents about anything.

The boys and I ate dinner. I'd made Carlisle's favorite recipe—not that my repertoire or cooking skills are that impressive. But still, I was disappointed that my husband wasn't home to eat it with us. His place sat empty. Lonely. Quiet. I looked wistfully at the space across from me and craved adult conversation, adult interaction, something to interrupt the boys' constant arguing and teasing and noise. Did he miss me or was he too absorbed in his work to even notice? He's a fantastic doctor—caring, compassionate, attentive, and so careful to get everything just right for his patients. And he is rewarded handsomely with all the trappings of success: money, recognition, advancement. He provides everything we could ask for, but I wonder, sometimes, if it's all worth it. _Should a "good life" feel so empty?_

I cleaned up the dishes and sent the boys upstairs to bathe and get ready for bed. The sound of water running into the sink reminded me of a lovely little fountain I used to pass on my way to the university when I studied abroad, tucked into a corner between two small residential streets, like it was there just for me. _I'll have to recreate that on our back patio. I have the perfect spot in mind._ Sometimes I would throw in a coin and wish Carlisle were there with me to experience the beauty and culture and history that was all around. We were half a world apart, separated by continents and oceans, but his daily letters and monthly phone calls reminded me that I was always close to his heart. I was always in his thoughts.

I dreamed that someday when we were done with school, he'd join me and we'd stay in Paris permanently. I would paint by day and maybe work part time in a boutique or a gallery while he saved the world, one patient at a time. We would fill our quirky little centuries-old apartment with baubles and treasures gathered on weekend trips around the continent. We'd enjoy the company of good friends and food in the evenings, and make passionate love at night in the city of romance. _Sigh_.

After studying abroad there, I was sure Paris would be like a second home, if not my primary residence at least for awhile. But in reality, after returning to Washington to finish school, getting married, and working full time at Laurent's gallery in Seattle to support us during his residency, we hadn't had time to travel much at all. We'd gone back to Paris just once, and that was over ten years ago, before Emmett was born. Thank goodness we took that pre-baby vacation, or I would have never been back. I love my boys, more than anything, but sometimes I yearn for the life I traded for them. Once in a lonely while, the splash of the dishwater makes me ponder about the choices I didn't make.

Daydream over, dishes done, granite counters wiped clean, and all evidence of dinner packed into the fridge, Edward padded into the kitchen, freshly scrubbed and toothless in his fleece pajamas with the monster feet, ready for a story. He wanted me to read it to him, and whined when I asked him to read to me instead. He needs the practice, so we settled on alternating pages. Emmett lay on the couch in the adjoining room, reading _Sideways Stories of Wayside School_. I heard him chuckle every so often. About halfway through _The Bearenstain Bears and the Spooky Old Tree_ (Do they dare go in the tree? "YES THEY DARE!" Edward would shout), both boys leaped from their seats, books forgotten at the first sound of the garage door opening.

"DADDY'S HOME—FIIIIIRST HUG!" Edward ran to be the first to greet him, jumping into his arms and winning our daily race. Emmett gripped his father around the waist, trying to avoid being kicked by his brother's dangling feet. With a hand behind his neck, I reached over both boys for an awkward kiss, snatching a quick glimpse of my favorite baby blues just for a moment before he pulled them away from me to witness Edward's missing tooth and to beam with pride at Emmett's tale of a successful play at football practice.

I heated my husband's plate in the microwave and insisted that the boys finish their reading so that Daddy could eat. As soon as he'd put his dishes in the dishwasher, he rushed over to the couch, grabbed Edward, and slung him over his shoulder.

"Edward lost his tooth! Where could it be? We've got to find the missing tooth!" he cried, flying Edward through each room of the house to search for it.

"It's not in the dining room, Dad! It's not in the laundry room…" Edward giggled, bouncing and laughing as they ran from room to room, and finally up to his bed where they found the tooth (and the cool tooth-shaped necklace) under his pillow. After tucking our Eddie-Bear into bed, Carlisle returned downstairs to give Emmett some one-on-one attention.

"What shall we play, chess or Uno tonight, Buddy?" He's such a good dad.

I went up to kiss Edward goodnight, and got myself ready for bed while I was up there. I brought some dirty clothes downstairs and put a load in the washer. The guys had started a game of chess, so I sank into my favorite red, overstuffed chair with a cup of tea and a romance novel I'd been eager to start. I know these trashy books have no redeeming value, but they're a guilty pleasure, a way to imagine being back in Paris or another exciting place and to bring a little passion into my ordinary day. A little escape, perhaps?

"I beat Dad!" Emmett boasted as he approached to say goodnight. "Whoo, whoo, whoo!" He punched the air like Arsenio Hall.

"Awesome, kiddo—I bet that feels great! Goodnight. I love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

I kissed Emmett goodnight and got up to switch the laundry into the dryer. Carlisle headed upstairs to tuck Emmett in.

"Tooth fairy?" I reminded him.

"Got it."

"Oh, Sweetie, don't forget my reunion is this weekend. There's a dinner and cocktail thing at the Fairmont Olympic on Friday at 7:00, and then a family picnic at noon on Saturday. They had a group rate so I booked us a room on Friday night. Mrs. Banner is going to watch the boys and bring them downtown on Saturday. I thought we might have breakfast with Carmen and Eleazar before the picnic. It's been awhile since we've gotten together with them. She's pregnant again, you know."

"Oh yeah? What's this, number three?" I nodded.

"Pfffft… they're crazy," he responded. As great as he was with the kids, he complained to me that they drained the life out of him. I'd had to fight and argue relentlessly to try for a second child, and sometimes I still felt some resentment from my husband over it. "I'll try to get out on time Friday. Is my black suit clean?"

"Picked it up today." He nodded and headed up the stairs.

I continued with my book until the laundry was dry, and switched on the TV while I folded. When Designing Women was over, I headed up to bed. 11:47. It was earlier than the night before, but even so, Carlisle was already sound asleep. He didn't even say goodnight. _Sigh—it's the 29__th__ and we haven't had sex at all this month. Does he even notice? Doesn't he miss it?_ I climbed into bed and found that he'd rolled over on his side and taken the covers with him, leaving just a tiny corner for me. I was cold, so I pulled on them gently, trying to release them from wherever Carlisle had them pinned down. He grunted in indignation as I finally released enough to cover me and leaned over blindly in the dark to kiss him goodnight. I think I got the back of his shoulder.

"Goodnight, I love you," I whispered.

"Mmmmm," he replied in his sleep, rolling over to face me and slinging a warm arm over my stomach.

Five hours later, I awoke to something uncomfortable poking me in the backside. Oh… it was Carlisle, only half awake (the lower half, apparently), but ready to wake me up and play connect the spoons. _I guess he's trying to keep up our once-a-month congress, but—ugh, I'm sooo tired. Why does he have to be a morning person when I'm such a night owl?_ I did want to be with him, but right at that moment I just wanted to sleep some more. He continued pressing against me and slid his fingers under the waistband of my panties, combing through my curly hair and then moving down to trace the outline of my folds. I was definitely not ready yet. "Kisses and hugs get me warmed up, remember?"

"Hm um… morning breath." He moved his hand up to embrace me, pulled me in closer so my back was against his chest, brushed my hair aside, and trailed his lips along my neck and shoulder. That was nice, though not what I really wanted. As he switched to kisses and nibbles, I began to tingle and shivered slightly. It was no use hoping to get more sleep. _All right, all right. I'll wake up and go with this._ He slid his hand under the t-shirt I slept in to fondle my breasts. I moved my hand behind me to caress his tush and thigh. He hitched his leg over my hip and ran his toes up and down my calf. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and moaned as he teased one nipple to attention, and then the other. I tried to stifle a yawn.

"Hold on," I murmured, and leaned over to the bedside table. I popped a breath mint into my mouth, got one for him, and grabbed our bottle of lubricant. That always helps when I'm half asleep.

When I turned back to Carlisle, his t-shirt was off and he was lifting his hips to slide his pajama pants and boxers off. _Man, he's beautiful. What a body. His daily workouts and jogs may take more time away from me, but they do provide me with this gorgeous sight._ At 40, he is toned and muscular and not much heavier than when I'd met him at 19—he'd gained just enough to fill in the sharp boyish angles, maturing him into a solid, sexy man, and he'd grown just enough soft, light brown hair on his chest and below his navel to make my mouth water.

"Say ahhh, Doctor." He opened his mouth and I placed the mint on his tongue. He smiled and sent me an air kiss. I kissed back and lifted the t-shirt over my head. He eagerly pulled me back into our spoons position, naked this time, with my leg hitched over his and his erection resting between my thighs. I reached down to pet it a few times as he kneaded my breasts and sucked on the juncture between my neck and shoulder. He moved his hand to the apex of my legs, petting and caressing gently. He held out his hand when I offered a squirt of lube, and added it to the moisture that had started to gather between my legs. I jumped as he applied the cold moisture to my clit, causing him to snicker. It warmed quickly, as he circled just the right spot, his talented surgeon's fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and speed. I continued to pet his cock as he massaged my clit, pressing his length against my opening.

"Ooooohhhhhh… right there, I'm close…" Just as I was about to fall over the edge, we heard the doorknob to our bedroom turn and rushed to yank the sheets up over our intertwined naked bodies and make sure we were covered.

"Shoot!"

Edward bounded in. "Daddy, look! The toof fairy left me a dollar!"

"Great, Buddy, but it's not time to get up yet. Leave it under your pillow and go back to sleep. I'll come get you up in about 45 minutes, ok?"

"Ok." He wandered off, oblivious.

"Close the door," we both called.

I groaned. "Doctor, I believe the medical term for that is Cummus Interruptus."

He laughed, "Where were we?" and replaced his hand.

"No," I sighed. "Moment's gone. I don't think I can find that place again right now. Let's just…"

I stroked him once more and guided his tip to my opening.

"If you insist…" and he pressed in slowly from behind, pausing for me to adjust and then pressing further. As he drove into me, his right hand continued massaging my clit, but I was getting dry, so it was a little uncomfortable. I moved his hand up to my chest. _That's better._ His hot breath warmed the back of my neck as I reached up to run my fingers through his hair. All was slow… gentle… sensual. Spooning sex is usually so lovely, but my head just wasn't in it this morning—this could have been so much better with some more warm up time and without our little visitor.

"Unnnggghhhh," he grunted. _I guess it was good enough for him!_

"Shhhhh… kids are awake." I worried that Edward would come back and catch us in the act.

"Ok." He resumed kissing my neck to try to keep his mouth busy and therefore quiet. I moved my hand back down to his ass, pulling him closer to me for a few thrusts, and then I reached down to cup his balls. He grunted, bucked his hips, and sped up. Carlisle was ready and breathing heavily. I gave his sack a final squeeze and rubbed the tender spot right behind it. He buried his head in my shoulder as he released and clenched his teeth to try to muffle his grunts and moans of pleasure.

Panting, I moved my arm to cover his, snaking our fingers together as he pulled me closer into his chest. "I love you, Esme… so much," he whispered.

"I love you, too," I replied, feeling nice but… unfulfilled, and trying not to show my disappointment.

"I'm sorry you didn't…"

"It's ok," I interrupted as I squeezed his hand. _There's always next month_.

As our breathing slowed, he looked over at the clock. "Quarter to six—I'm gonna be late if I don't get up."

Still connected, he rolled me almost onto my belly, him on top of me, to reach for the tissue box on the nightstand. Two for me, two for him. We held them in place, said goodbye, and disconnected, catching the mess in our tissues. Neither of us liked a wet spot, so we'd developed this procedure years ago. I rested for a few minutes while he showered, then rose to clean myself up. I admired him through the glass shower door as he finished, and handed him his towel with a kiss as we traded places.

"Have a good day."

"Well, for a Tuesday, it's starting out pretty well," he smiled.

* * *

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

This story will alternate between Esme's perspective in 1990 and Bella's in 2012. Please don't leave before giving Bella her turn to speak in Chapter 2.

Timeline: Esme and Carlisle are 38 and 40 in 1990. They've been married 15 years and together since they were 17 and 19.

Without Besotted's help, this would all be one big paragraph. THANK YOU!

Thanks for reading. Please review!

Jen


	3. Chapter 2--Bella: A Busy Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 4/25/12. Re-posted 11/20/13.**

**Chapter 2—Bella: A Busy Day**

April 27, 2012 (Friday)

I awoke to a peck on the forehead and a "time to get up," from my husband. "You gonna be ok picking up my folks?"

"Yeah," I yawned. "Can't wait to see them. Should we take them out somewhere near the hospital for dinner tonight? How about PF Chang's?"

"Can't you cook? I was planning to come home early. I have a pre-op meeting today for the big procedure on Monday and if that hits a snag, it could hold me up, but I think it'll be ok. I should be able to get out of there on time. Make your chicken enchiladas—my dad loves those!"

_Sigh_, of course he wants something that takes hours to make. Never mind everything that I have to do today to get ready for the party. "I'll see what I can put together."

"Good. I'll try to get here by six. Can you get all that crap out of the dining room?"

"It's for the party. It'll be gone tomorrow." He raised his eyebrows in exasperation as I answered.

"Fine. I'll find somewhere to put it while we eat."

_Argh_! Our son's 2nd birthday party was the next day, and I'd stayed up really late working on the games and decorations and favors. My husband was asleep before I finished and he obviously saw the dining room table covered with bags and balloons and everything "truck" this morning.

I'd been planning to put everything in place for the party tomorrow and make the cake tonight. If I did it now, Riley would get into everything and mess it up.

"Please do so. See you tonight."

And with that he was gone. Gone for the day. Off to his other home, his cleaner home, apparently—the hospital where he spends most of his life. I heard the garage door open and his car start below and checked the clock—6:30 a.m.

_Ugh, I wonder if I can sleep another hour?_ I hadn't finished until 2:00 a.m.

I was almost back to sleep when I heard my door open and little feet pitter-pattering toward my bed.

"Mama, up!" A tiny person grunted as he climbed up onto my bed. I cringed as he crawled over me, sinking his knee right into my stomach.

"Let's sleep a little longer, Ri. Want to snuggle with mama?"

"Mama, UP! Go get Gamma Gampa in da airpwane."

"We'll pick them up after lunchtime, Riley. For now, let's rest."

"Mama, poo-poo."

_Sigh_… "Ok, let's get you cleaned up."

And so began my day. Another day of playing with trucks and blocks and loud electronic toys, of singing repetitive songs about busses and animals, of reading books with thick pages and incomplete sentences, of laundry and clearing Riley's personal path of destruction, and of wiping.

Wiping, wiping, wiping.

Wiping his hands,

wiping his face,

wiping his nose,

wiping his butt,

wiping the table,

wiping the floor (not all with the same rag, of course).

Whoever said stay at home moms had it easy has obviously never stayed home with a toddler, because this is more challenging than any paying job I've ever had.

I got up and changed that diaper—the first of many for the day—got both of us dressed and packed a diaper bag with an extra outfit for our trip to the airport, just in case.

I gave the upstairs a final once over before my perfect, interior designer, mother-in-law arrived. It would never pass a white glove test, and she wouldn't say a word, but I want things to be nice. I love her to death, but my in-laws are pretty intimidating.

It's not just the house, either, it's us. They're like the fairy tale, happily-ever-after couple, so in love, always holding hands and complimenting each other even after what must be close to forty years together. What an impossible standard to live up to.

_Sigh_. Edward and I used to be like that. But now, approaching five years together, it seems like we've run out of things to say and run out of affection to share with each other.

It's all about Riley.

I just hope the Cullens aren't disappointed in me. I hope I'm still good enough for their precious baby boy. _Take a deep breath, and get back to work_!

I fed Riley and myself and cleaned up his breakfast mess. (Riley is now modeling outfit number two for today, a dark wash denim overall and coordinating t-shirt with an adorable teddy bear appliqué adorning the bib).

While he played in the next room, I hurried to get the components of Riley's cake into the oven so I could take them out before we had to leave.

I cleaned up toys, dusted ("Riley, help mama with the magic wand!"), and did a quick swipe with the vacuum downstairs, managing Riley's needs every few minutes, of course. Completing a single task from start to finish without interruption is an ancient memory.

I transferred all the birthday party paraphernalia from the dining room to the office, cursing my control-freak husband under my breath as Idid this extra chore.

After a quick lunch (_no change of clothing for Riley this time—hooray_!), I double checked all the food and supplies for the party to make sure I had everything and made a list of what I'd need for tonight's last-minute dinner menu.

After turning the cakes onto the cooling racks, it was time to go get "Gamma and Gampa," so I hid the cake pans in the oven, to be washed later. I strapped Riley into his car seat and we hit the road.

Half an hour later, we were on the pedestrian overpass at Lindberg Field. While others walked quickly across from the parking lot to the airport terminal, pulling their roller bags and talking on their cell phones, we were stopped—hands and faces pressed to the glass, pointing out all the planes and trucks and cars and busses and taxis that we could see bustling about below.

"Wook, Mama—zzzzzzsh!" Riley flew his right arm in front of him, thumb and pinky finger extended in the sign for airplane. Everything is so fascinating to him.

"Yes, Baby, maybe one of those planes over there is the one Grandma and Grandpa flew in. Let's go find them!"

As we approached the baggage claim area, I spotted my in-laws, hand-in-hand as they waited for their luggage. She looked lovingly into his eyes as she told him something, and smiled widely as he gave her a quick kiss and went to gather one of their bags from the carousel.

_How do they do it?_ I wondered with envy.

"Mama, wook! Gamma!"

"Yes, there she is, and there's Grandpa with the big suitcase!"

"GAMMA! GAMPA!" Riley shrieked with excitement. That got their attention, and that of everyone else within hearing range. I set him down and Riley ran to his grandmother's arms.

"Welcome to San Diego," I wished them. She picked Riley up but greeted me first.

"Bella, Honey, it's so good to see you!" She hugged me. "How are you? Everything ready for the big day tomorrow?"

"Almost," I laughed. "Just have to finish the cake."

She turned her attention to Riley as Carlisle set their last bag on a cart and greeted me. "Bellissima! How are you, Dear?" He hugged me and kissed my cheek. He always smells so good—just the right amount of cologne, and an underlying hint of the stuff surgeons use to scrub with, just like Edward. "Thank you for making time in your busy day to pick us up."

"No problem, Carlisle. It's great to see you both."

He smiled and reached for Riley. "Look how big you've gotten, little man! I'll bet you're sooooo big that you can help me push the cart!"

As we made our way to the car, Esme put her arm around my waist and warmly asked all about Riley, and the party, and what I'd been up to lately. "And how's Edward? I know he's been talking to Carlisle non-stop about the big surgery on Monday. Is he nervous?"

_Hmm… big surgery?_ He mentioned something about a pre-op today, but I had no idea what she was talking about. "Um… I don't know. He tries not to bring work home with him too much. He has been working a lot of late hours lately, though."

"Oh, I know how that is… Just like his dad." I watched in the rear view mirror as they exchanged a glance. It was as if they were sharing a sad memory.

We were nearing home. "I need a few last minute things at the store. I'm sorry, but do you mind if I drop you at home and run down there while you unpack and settle in?"

"Bella, don't be silly! Just pull in there now. I'll shop with you, and Carlisle can play with Riley while we're inside."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! Let's go."

I grabbed a grocery cart and my list as Riley led "Gampa" by the hand to the fountain down by the food court in the strip mall. Carlisle paused to give his wife a kiss. "See you soon, my love."

"I'm sorry about the stop, Esme. I thought we'd take you out to dinner tonight, but Edward said that you and Carlisle would prefer something home cooked, so I need to pick up a few ingredients."

She sighed. "He has no clue, does he? How hard you work? I can only imagine how much time you put into your spectacular parties, Bella, and keeping track of a two year old and minding that big ol' house on top of it all? You must be exhausted. Dinner out would have been a nice break."

She's right about the house. We bought this monstrous, nearly 4,000-square foot place last year because Edward didn't think it looked right for someone in his position to live in a little condo, especially since we had a family now.

I loved our little condo. It was cute and very "us." I never wanted such a big place, but here we are in the "right" zip code and the "right" school district, with the "right" house on the "right" lot. Right for him, maybe. For me, it's too big to clean, too big to furnish, and too big to decorate, especially with my limited artistic skills.

Luckily, Esme picks a room to help me decorate every time she comes for a visit, bless her generous heart!

I'm sure I'll grow to love it eventually, but for now, it's just… overwhelming.

"Thank you," I answered with a wry laugh. "I bring it upon myself, I guess. The parties are fun and creative, but they are a lot of work. It'll be over soon!"

"Well, you work on your party tonight, and leave dinner to me."

"Esme, no…"

"I insist. You're busy enough. You shouldn't have to entertain Carlisle and me, so let me help out. I'll make Eddie-Bear something he liked growing up, and we'll see if Riley takes after Daddy."

I laughed at his childhood nickname. He's always so serious and professional now, I can't imagine Edward being called "Eddie-Bear."

"Well, only if you promise to teach me how to make it."

"Deal," she answered with a single nod.

I enjoyed cooking with Esme. She taught me Edward's favorite childhood recipe and it was nice to have some company in the kitchen. She was sharing the latest news about my brother-in-law Emmett's family. They live in Seattle and have two little boys and his wife Rosalie is pregnant.

"Carlisle's father was so excited when they found out the baby's a girl. This will be the first Cullen girl in four generations. He brought out his huge old bible and was suggesting old family names for them to use. There were some real doozies: Sulpicia and Didyme and Athenadora…" She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. I laughed.

The garage door started to rumble and we heard Edward's car pull in. "Here, Honey, I can do this." She took the spoon from my hand and took over stirring the pot I'd been tending. "Go pour a glass of that lemonade we made and greet him at the door. Quick! Beat him there!"

I did as she told, scowling behind her back at her antiquated notion of serving him like that. _What is this, the 50s?_

"Hello? Where's my Mini Me?" Edward called out, just like always, only Riley didn't come running.

"Sorry, you just get me today. Your dad took Riley down to the tot lot."

"Oh, they made it, huh?" I nodded as Edward put his bag in the coat closet and hung his keys on the hook. He turned to me and gave me a peck on the lips, "Hi," and a cursory look before peering over my shoulder to seek out his mother.

"Here you go, Clarkie." I handed him the glass of lemonade. That got his attention, and he smiled at my use of the nickname I gave him in college. "Thanks. What's this?"

"Your mom's special recipe."

His eyes lit up. "Really? Did she teach you? I've always loved this."

"Edward!" Esme approached, drying her hands on a dishtowel before she threw them around her son in a hug. "Hi, Honey."

"Mom—Good to see you!" He was animated as he hugged her and kissed her on the cheek with a warm smile. It was a lot different from the reception he'd had for me.

"We'll catch up later. I don't want dinner to burn. Granny's Beef Stroganoff!" His eyebrows shot up in excitement. "Now, you two sit here and talk about your day while there's some quiet." She retreated back to the kitchen.

He set his drink on a coaster and plopped down on the couch. "Why's _Mom_ cooking?" he demanded, knitting his brow.

"She insisted," I shrugged. "She wanted to make 'Eddie-Bear's favorite,' so I told her she could, but only if she taught me how to make it." I hoped I wouldn't miss too much of the recipe, sitting here, and wondered how long we had to stick around.

"Oh." He chuckled and shook his head, understanding that I never could have swayed his mom. Edward finished off his lemonade and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he set his glass on the table. "This is funny."

"What?"

"This." He waved his hand between the two of us. "My parents used to do this every day. Whenever one of them would come home, the other would drop whatever they were doing to sit and talk for a few minutes. We weren't allowed to disturb them, but Em and I were always trying to come up with ways to trick them out of it, faking injuries and emergencies and stuff. Huh… I'd almost forgotten about it."

"Really? How'd they do that when you were little?"

"I don't know. I don't think they started it until I was older. Elementary school, maybe."

"Hmm. I was wondering what she was doing, telling me to bring you a drink and greet you at the door." I rolled my eyes. "I guess I can play along: How was your day, Dear?" I asked in a sarcastic, high-pitched voice as I batted my eyes.

"Ohhhh," he groaned and leaned back on the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and then running his fingers through his hair. "Man, it was crazy today. Everybody's going nuts getting ready for the…"

"MA-MAAAA!" Carlisle came in the front door, carrying a sobbing, teary Riley in his arms.

"Oh, Baby, what happened?" I jumped up and took Riley gently from my father-in-law, hugging him close and rocking him back and forth as I cooed in his ear to soothe him.

Carlisle described Riley pushing a truck underneath a picnic table at the park and then standing up and bumping his head. It was nothing serious, but he felt really bad about Riley getting hurt on his watch. I assured him that it was fine—things like that happened all the time lately. He was just at that height right now.

Edward placed his ice-filled lemonade glass against the baby's head until Esme rushed in with an ice pack to replace it.

Riley wanted Daddy and climbed from my arms to Edward's, so I took the glass, patted Carlisle on the back, pleading with him to stop apologizing, and led him to the kitchen.

Two minutes later, Riley's world was right again, and it was as if nothing had ever happened. I re-joined Esme behind the stove, completely forgetting the conversation I'd been having with Edward when the chaos ensued.

Her dinner was a big hit. The food was great, even if the ambiance was not. I had managed to stow all the party paraphernalia elsewhere, but we hadn't worked on the dining room yet, so it was a big white box of a room with nothing but a table, chairs, and a china cabinet. Oh well, the company was good.

After all was eaten and cleaned up, I got to work on Riley's cake. He loves trucks and big construction equipment. We'd stopped once a couple of months ago to watch a road crew repave a parking lot and Riley pointed out the names of ALL the trucks "… paver… dump truck… roller…" so I knew a truck theme would be a hit among his two year oldpeers.

I was making a 3-D cake in the shape of a dump truck, bright yellow with chocolate donuts for wheels and crushed Oreo "dirt" in the back. In my mind, it would stand about a foot tall, and look pretty close to the toy truck he takes to the park to haul sand in. I just had to build it, frost it, and hope it worked!

"The three boys are playing. May I help you with anything?" Esme asked. She saw the shape that the cake had taken, carefully cut and constructed according to the sketches I'd drawn and held together with sticky buttercream icing, skewers, and pieces of drinking straws.

"Wow, Bella, that's incredible! You truly are a sculptor, with cake as your medium. It's edible art." Coming from her, an artist who had studied in Paris, it was quite a compliment.

"Oh, thanks! Too bad it'll be gone after a day, huh?"

Later, Edward tucked Riley in and was deep in conversation with his father about something at work. Esme arranged all the decorations and party favors, set up the games, and got the house and yard ready for the party the next day as I constructed the truck. With her decorator's touch, everything looked beautiful. The woman was a godsend.

Soon, everyone else went to bed—Carlisle leading Esme up the stairs with his hand on her back, Edward with a quick "g'night!" to me—and I continued with my cake, squeezing yellow star after yellow star of icing to cover the chocolate underneath.

Boredom and exhaustion made my thoughts flow: I wished Edward would at least try to show some affection for me. _Is a kiss goodnight too much to ask? Have I done something wrong to make him stop loving me?_

My hand was starting to ache, my eyes to droop, and my mind to wander into really dangerous territory: _Will I be able to hold onto him much longer? What was he doing with Dr. Clearwater last week?_

I scooped more icing into the pastry bag and worked the air bubbles out as I replayed the scene in my head, trying to make sense of it. I'd wanted to surprise Edward by taking him some dinner when he had to work the late shift. As I stood at the nurses' station with the stroller waiting to ask someone to page him, I saw Leah Clearwater step through a door across the hall with Edward following right behind her. They were both smiling and laughing. He put his hand on her upper arm and I wish I could read lips, because he said something to her—I couldn't tell what—and then she stopped and gave him a hug before they headed opposite ways down the hallway.

I just left his dinner with the receptionist, too upset to eat with him.

My eyes started to blur as I squeezed yellow star after yellow star onto Riley's cake and my eyes teared up at the memory of my husband hugging that woman and smiling at her and, _Oh my god, what else had they been doing?_ He hadn't even said goodbye to me that morning, much less shared a smile or a hug with ME.

My pastry bag hit an air bubble, sputtered, and produced a mangled star that I had to scrape off the cake with my palette knife. I sniffled and tried not to cry as I worried. _Would he? Could he be cheating on me with Dr. Clear_…

Esme surprised me in the kitchen, wearing a silky short robe and a dreamy smile. "Oh, Bella! You're still up?" She blushed and pulled her robe tighter, the shock of seeing me snuffing out her obvious post-coital glow. "I just came down to get a glass of water," she said with a sheepish smile as she took two glasses from the cabinet.

"Mmm hmm. Well, at least someone's getting some in this house!" I was feeling really punchy from being so tired and thinking such negative thoughts. _Did I really just say that to my mother-in-law? Oh my god!_ I gasped and covered my face with my sticky hands in embarrassment "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I said that!" She laughed it off.

"Honey, you need to get up to bed. It's 2:00 a.m."

"I just finished the cake, finally. I'll be up as soon as I get this mess cleaned up."

"Oh, look at that! It's gorgeous! Bella, you're amazing!"

Tears came to my eyes as I scraped icing out of my Kitchen Aid into a plastic container. "Thanks. I'm glad YOU think so!" I wondered how much longer I'd have her as my mother-in-law, and the tears started to fall.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She took the bowl and scraper from me and gave me one of the glasses of water. "Tell me what's going on."

I took a few gulps. "How do you and Carlisle do it? You're always so… affectionate and happy! I thought that since Edward grew up with you, he'd be like that, too. But he won't even touch me anymore. He barely even talks to me. It's like we're just… roommates. Ever since we had the baby it's gotten worse and worse. I don't think he loves me anymore. It's like he gives it all to Riley and his job, and there's nothing left for me. I'm just the housekeeper and the babysitter." I started sobbing as I realized, "Oh my god, I shouldn't tell YOU this, you're his mom!"

"Oh, Honey…" she pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back and rocking me until I calmed down.

"You guys are always holding hands and laughing and looking into each other's eyes…" I sniffed. "How do you do it? How do you keep that going? You guys are just… perfect."

She took me by the upper arms and looked into my watery eyes, shaking her head. "Bella, it hasn't always been this way for us."

I scoffed.

"I've been exactly where you are right now, felt exactly the same things you are feeling about your marriage," she insisted.

"Yeah, right." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious! Jeez, some of the things you said were even the same WORDS I used about Carlisle twenty years ago. It's kind of spooky. Like a depressing kind of déjà vu. But Bella, Edward loves you."

I sniffed and shook my head in disbelief.

"He LOVES you, more than ANYthing. But love changes after you've been married awhile, especially after you have children. It's easy to start taking each other for granted. It's so easy to lose hold of each other. Keeping your flame alive takes a conscious effort. It's a choice you both make, every day. It isn't easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is."

"You sure make it look easy."

"It wasn't at first." She knit her eyebrows. "But it's so worth it Bella."

"What do we do?" I begged.

"We finish these dishes, get some rest, and have a nice long talk after the party is over. Now get the pans out of the oven." She patted me on the back. I flushed with embarrassment and hung my head.

"Honey, I've been there." She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now move!"

I finally made it to bed at a quarter to three, pondering what Esme had said. I could not even imagine her and Carlisle ever being distant or snippy with one another. They were always so lovey-dovey. _Well, if it's true, then at least I know there's hope for Edward and me to get past this slump we're in_.

I slipped into bed and scooched over to snuggle against my sleeping husband. I couldn't see in the dark, but I leaned in to kiss whatever part of him I could reach. I think it was his elbow. "I love you," I whispered. Desperate for some physical contact with him, my foot touched his leg. He jumped when he felt my chilly toes, pulled it away, and rolled over, taking most of the covers with him. _Sigh, I hope there's hope anyway_.

**Esme's POV**

I finally brought Carlisle his glass of water at a quarter to three. I was saddened to see Bella's breakdown and hear about her frustration with Edward. It brought back some painful memories of a difficult time, and I was so sorry that she and my son were going through this. I set the glass on the nightstand and slipped out of my robe and into bed. My husband pulled me into a close cuddle and ran his feet along my legs.

"Brr! What took so long, my pretty little cold one?"

"Bella just finished her cake, and I helped with the dishes so she could get to bed. Sorry to keep you waiting. I thought you'd be asleep, Sweetie."

"Hmm," I could feel his smile against the side of my head. "You certainly did tire me out! I was dozing, but you know I can't sleep well without you."

I giggled and kissed him. "I love you SO much," I sighed.

"I love you, too. What's wrong, Baby?"

"Oh, Carlisle, it just breaks my heart. Bella asked me how you and I manage to stay so in love. Apparently she and Edward are having a rough patch. She feels neglected and unloved."

"Oh no! That sounds like us!"

I nodded sadly in agreement.

"Edward seemed a little off tonight, too. Totally engaged when we talked about work. All smiles for Riley—he's a great dad. But when anything about Bella came up he seemed kind of tense."

"She asked what our secret was. What should I tell her?" We talked for awhile about how we'd turned things around, what things had had the greatest impact for each of us. What we'd share with the kids. "Should I tell her about The Fantasy Basket?"

"Well it certainly helped us! In more ways than one." He laughed.

"I don't know if I can talk to my daughter-in-law about her sex life with my son! That may just be too… ick! And she may not want to hear about you and me playing out our fantasies… I mean, no one wants to know about their parents being intimate, much less hear the details!

I don't want to ruin my relationship with Bella by putting those images into her head. And what about you? She may never be able to look you in the eye again!"

"Ezzy," Carlisle said. "She's a grown woman. Married, with a child. She can handle it. NOT talking about things is probably what led to this trouble in the first place. Remember when you told me that a happy marriage was the best gift we could give the boys?"

I nodded.

"Well, I don't think our parenting job is finished quite yet. Now it's time for us to help our boy and his wife learn that lesson themselves. It will help them. And helping them will help Riley. You get to do it, though. I gave the last sex talk."

"Carlisle! That was what… 15 years ago?" I laughed. "You're right, though. When I surprised her in the kitchen, she knew exactly what we'd been up to. She even teased me about it a little. Unfortunately, I think that's what triggered her breakdown."

"See, she's a big girl. You can tell her about The Fantasy Basket without being too specific. And if she gets grossed out, you can always give her a safe word!" he teased with a slap to my tush.

"Carlisle! You naughty boy…"

"Good night, my love."

**A/N**

Timeline: Bella is 26 and Edward is 28. I would have liked to have made them a little older than this, but couldn't make the timeline work with certain storylines. (I tried. Believe me, I tried!) If you can overlook the timeline, please imagine them as around 30 and 32, married for around 8 years. They live in San Diego. In Bella's present-day side of the story, Esme is 60 and Carlisle is 62. They are visiting from Seattle.

Next chapter, we'll be back to Esme in 1990.

Besotted helps my tense. Many, many thanks!

Thanks for reading. Now that you've heard from Bella, I'd love to hear what you think.

JEN


	4. Chapter 3: Esme--The Reunion

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/2/12, Re-posted 11/23/13**

* * *

**Chapter 3—Esme: The Reunion**

**September 1990**

"Ready? Let's get a move on. You said it starts at 7:00, right?" Carlisle asked, checking his watch.

"I'm ready. Carlisle, you look…"

"Boys? Come say goodbye!" he interrupted, as if I weren't even there. Emmett and Edward came tearing down the hallway, nearly knocking their father over, ten year old Emmet hugging Carlisle around the waist and six year old Edward leaping into his arms.

"Bye Daddy, we love you!"

"I love you, too. Miss you already," Carlisle replied as he showered the boys with kisses and tousled their messy hair. "Be good for Mrs. Banner, ok?" Edward's old preschool teacher was the best babysitter ever, and was happy to stay with the boys overnight.

"We will, Dad."

"Bye Mom. Love you!" My sons each hugged me and kissed my cheek. "You look pretty dressed up all fancy, Mama."

"Thanks Eddie-Bear." _At least one of the males in this house noticed_.

Carlisle watched the boys with loving eyes. Eyes that rarely met mine anymore. He's such a good father. I hated taking him away from the kids when their time with their daddy was so limited.

I felt a little guilty when I booked a room at the hotel for the night of the reunion. Was it selfish of me to want to spend a night with my husband? We really needed some time alone without distractions or interruptions. Things had been so distant between us lately, and I hoped that we could reconnect a little this weekend.

"Thanks for coming tonight. I may need the moral support."

"You nervous?" he asked as he pulled onto the freeway, speeding up and darting aggressively through the Friday night traffic. His car was no minivan!

"A little. Carmen's the only one I've kept in touch with, other than a couple of girls on my Christmas card list. She and I agreed to talk to other people tonight instead of each other, though. We'll compare notes at breakfast tomorrow. I wonder if anyone will remember me after 20 years?"

"Esme, you were a cheerleader. Everyone will remember you."

"Ugh—the cheerleaders! They're the ones I DON'T want to see."

"Give them a chance, Es, I'm sure they've changed." That's my Carlisle—always so kind, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. I wasn't feeling quite so forgiving.

"Yeah, maybe now the queen witch Maria is fat and twice divorced, working as a secretary in a dumpy little office, gossiping all day long and reading celebrity magazines to try and forget her pathetic little life."

"Do I detect a little bitterness?" he chuckled.

"Who, me? Never!" I replied, dripping with sarcasm.

The cheerleaders on my varsity squad had been an army of pure evil, led by a demon named Maria. I loved cheering, but those girls? Ugh! I shudder at the memory.

For some reason, Maria took a dislike to me early on, and influenced the others to snub me as well.

They put on a good show when the squad was on display—all the fans we cheered for and our teachers and coaches thought we were all the best of friends, smiling and hugging. But once the spotlight was off, the girls went wild, partying and gossiping, attacking anyone perceived to be less important than they were, which was just about everyone.

I was always a "nice" girl—didn't drink or smoke or swear or sleep around—and while I tried to be friends with everyone during cheer practices and games and to never judge others for the choices they made, I certainly didn't go out partying with them or participate in their gossip.

Unfortunately, that was all the fuel they needed to put a target on my back. Just because I chose not to get drunk every weekend with them and sleep my way through the football team, they spread rumors and pulled mean pranks and basically shunned me.

Poor Carlisle. I had started dating him that awful year, and he was always my shoulder to cry on when the girls got under my skin. He helped me realize that just because I COULD be a cheerleader, didn't necessarily mean I SHOULD be one if it was making me miserable. So, when it came time for senior year tryouts, I decided I'd had enough and didn't bother showing up.

That was unheard of—girls who earned a coveted spot on the Varsity squad as a junior ALWAYS cheered as a senior. The tryout was just a technicality. I was willingly walking away from top-level popularity and status at our school, but I didn't care.

I would miss the cheerleading itself, but the people I had to work with made it intolerable. Why should I willingly subject myself to more torture? Besides, I was dating a college boy—I was so DONE with high school.

True to her character, when I didn't try out, Maria told everyone that I hadn't made the squad because I had such a bad personality. What an evil beast!

"It's been 20 years, Es. She may have matured into a much different person. Maybe now you'll even like her." _Oh please, Carlisle, whose side are you on? _

"Yeah, right!" I couldn't believe his optimism. For the brilliant man that he is, he knows nothing about women. "Well, at least I'll be on the arm of the most handsome man in the room. She'll be so jealous," I sniggered.

"Pull the claws in, Es. I don't want you to snag my Armani."

I smiled. "Do you realize you've had this car for almost a year and this is only the third time I've been in it?" He had bought the Porsche for his 40th birthday. Very cliché, I told him. I just hoped he wasn't continuing the cliché by giving the nurses at the hospital free "rides" in his sexy car.

"Really? Well, maybe we'll just have to get you one of your own in two years."

I would rather just have him take me out in his once in awhile.

"Sure. I can just stick the boys in the trunk. Do you think Emmett will fit? He's getting pretty big."

He laughed.

"Actually, I'd rather have a trip—just you and me on a beach somewhere. No worries…hmm, maybe Australia? I'd love to visit a whole new continent. Or we could go back to Paris, where I spent my 20th birthday."

"You know how hard it is for me to get away," he groused, dismissively. I frowned.

"I know I'll only turn 40 once." We were quiet until he pulled into the driveway at the hotel.

"Just relax and have fun tonight. I've got your back if you need it, ok?" _Now he's back to nice. _

I nodded as he tossed his keys to the valet, buttoned his jacket, and offered me his arm. All eyes were on the incomparably handsome Dr. Cullen as he led me to the ballroom. That made me more nervous than the prospect of meeting any of my old classmates.

"I remember that girl. Still wish I could've felt those feathers," Carlisle whispered with a grin as he attached my name tag to my dress. They had included our senior class pictures, in which each girl wore a pale pink drape with marabou trim and each boy wore a tux with a ruffled shirt, next to our maiden and married names.

I remembered getting that picture taken the summer before senior year. Carlisle had driven me to the photography studio and stood behind the photographer, undressing me with his eyes as my photo was taken. It gave me a nice blush and gleam in my eye for the yearbook picture.

"I like you in feathers. I wish I could've felt them," he'd whispered in my ear.

After the photo session, he took me to see the Wizard of Oz—it was a Judy Garland commemorative, since she had just died—and we made out like crazy.

The reunion was a lot more fun than I'd expected. For the most part, people were warm and friendly, talking about kids and jobs and reminiscing about high school memories.

The photo-name tags turned out to be very helpful because some people looked completely different after 20 years.

We spoke with old friends and acquaintances and met their spouses. I even got to know and like some classmates now whom I hadn't really known in high school for whatever reason.

Carlisle was his charismatic self, befriending all the men and charming all the women. It was nice to see the confident, sexy, outgoing man I had dated and married instead of the tense, clipped person who barely made eye contact when he comes home to me every night.

I missed this man—the man I had fallen in love with.

It seemed that a lot of my classmates had experienced similar ruts in their relationships. I was shocked at the number of people who had divorced, some more than once. I'd never believed the common statistic that half of all marriages end in divorce, but I could see it here in flesh and blood.

Just as disheartening were the people who seemed to have settled into unhappy lives. Many of the married couples seemed so disconnected from each other and I worried that I appeared just the same to them. I wondered, _was this just life after a certain age? Was there no more joy or enthusiasm between partners when you approached 40? Did love for each other give way to love for your children?_ I sighed in resignation and laid my head on Carlisle's shoulder.

"Tired?"

"No, just thinking…"

"Let me get you something to drink." As Carlisle walked toward the bar, I watched all the eyes in the room follow him.

I'll admit that he's dazzling, but many women made no effort at all to disguise their attraction to him. He's a married man with children, for crying out loud! I shook my head in disbelief.

The reunion was in full swing now. As the night wore on and the alcohol took effect, the dynamic in the room changed. Old cliques started to regroup—people abandoning their lonely spouses to drink alone like wallflowers at the prom. Old attitudes started to reemerge. Gossip started flowing freely.

"I need to visit the ladies room. I'll meet you back here in a bit."

As I finished in the restroom and struggled to pull my nylons up straight and rearrange my dress in the tiny stall, I overheard a group of boisterous women enter the room to primp in the mirror.

"Did you see that total babe up in the front?"

"The blonde? Oh my god, yes! I think he's here with Esme." It was Maria and her two cheerleader minions. I had managed to avoid them all night, and now here I was stuck in the bathroom hearing them lust over my husband.

"You're kidding."

"No, did you see the Porsche they arrived in?"

"Talk about man on a stick."

"Huh?"

"Man on a stick! Don't you want to unwrap him and lick him all over?" The other two giggled.

"He is a total babe, and Michelle said he's a doctor, too."

"Jeez, how the hell did Miss Goody Two Shoes land that fine specimen?" Maria scoffed, "That much man has needs that I'm sure Miss Never-Been-Drunk can't even imagine fulfilling. He's got to screw around, don't you think? Can you imagine that prude being enough for him?"

"Maria, you're terrible!" Lucy was always the nicest of the three.

"She's just the window dressing, I'll bet. The pretty little wifey who's good enough on paper to have his kids, cook dinner for his boss, and decorate his arm for charity events. Men like that usually keep a little something on the side so they can get their freak on."

"I don't know, Maria." That was Nettie for sure. I remembered her nasally voice.

"Maybe Esme has a secret side. Don't you remember the theories about her senior year?"

"What?"

"You know…That she was a pro. She always had money, even though her parents were dead. She went off campus for lunch almost every day, and why wouldn't she try out for Senior Varsity Cheer unless she needed her weekends free for other, more lucrative activities?" Nettie laughed.

"What do you mean she didn't try out? She didn't make it because she was such a stuck-up bitch!"

"No, Maria, I was one of the peers on the selection committee. She didn't turn in an application or show up for tryouts or anything, so we couldn't even schedule an interview. God, I can't believe you don't remember this!"

"No way. Esme the pro? That's not possible. She was always so sweet and nice." At least Lucy was defending me.

"Yeah, maybe nicer to some than others!" They laughed.

"Let's go try to talk to them. Since Dr. Sexy will be starring in my fantasies for awhile, I want to get a closer look at him and find out what name to scream."

"Hell with that, Maria. Let's go talk to him and see if he'd like to ditch the bitch and join us upstairs for a private party for four?"

"Make it three. I'm here with Jim, remember?"

"Your loss, Lucy!" They cackled, heels echoing against the cold tile floor.

I struggled to hold back my sobs until I heard the door close behind them. I splashed some cold water on my face and hurried back to join Carlisle before those vamps could sink their teeth into him.

As my eyes scanned the ballroom, I spotted Carmen and Eleazar sitting with our old friends Janet and Lynn and their husbands. After a quick hello, I asked if they'd seen Carlisle. Eleazar said he's seen him talking to Joe Newton and offered to walk me over to where he was.

"Esme, are you ok?" Carmen asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the morning, ok? I just… I have to find Carlisle, right now."

Eleazar led me in the direction he'd last seen my husband. He brushed past the three leeches who hovered nearby, ready to pounce, and found Carlisle in an animated conversation with Joe Newton, former student body president, about the latest health care reform. Joe had done well for himself. He owned a chain of sporting goods stores throughout Washington and Oregon and was the favored candidate in a run for the state senate. Joe was a good guy. I always knew he'd do well.

"Hey, Dr. C! Look who I found."

"Oh, there you are! Eleazar, great to see you, my friend. How's Carmen? I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thanks, Doc. She's wonderful. I swear she gets more beautiful with every child she carries for me. I'd better get back to her before one of her many old admirers swoops in to steal her away. See you tomorrow. Joe, great to see you again. How's the campaign…"

As the two men wandered away, I clasped my arms tightly around my husband and buried my face in his chest.

"Esme, what's wrong?"

"You've got my back, right?" I whispered urgently, "I need you to kiss me, Carlisle, kiss me with passion like you used to."

With a confused look, he leaned down and took my face in his hands. My eyes darted toward the trio of cheerleaders (still skinny and slutty as ever) and he understood.

He looked into my eyes and whispered "I'll make your troubles go away." He kissed me twice tenderly, and then deepened his kiss and his embrace, moving his right hand to my hair and his left down my neck and chest, grazing my breast as he moved it around to my back, pulling my body flush against his with his fingers splayed so his wedding ring was in full view of our three unwelcome onlookers.

As Carlisle's warm tongue lapped against mine, I glanced over to see Lucy respectfully turned away, Nettie turned sideways stealing a few quick glimpses out of the corner of her eye, and Maria facing us directly staring blatantly with undisguised lust, her jaw partly open, chest heaving with deep breaths, one hand on her stomach and the other clutching her skirt.

_What a sleaze_ I thought, as Carlisle pulled my head to the side and moved his mouth to my neck.

Working his way up to my ear, his hand moved down to my ass, pulling my pelvis into contact with his and he began to rock gently against me as he whispered, "Show's over, let's get out of here Es," into my ear.

He turned to gather his jacket and my clutch from the table, ensuring that Maria got a clear view of the erection he sported. As he led me away past my tormentors, he turned his eyes in an icy blue glare at Maria, leaned in toward her face while adjusting himself seductively, and murmured "not for you, not ever. There's only one woman who can handle this." His hand shifted from his crotch to my lower back as he covered himself with the jacket in his other hand and led me toward the exit and up to our room.

As the elevator doors closed, Carlisle laughed, "How was that? Did we give them a good show?"

"It was perfect. You were perfect. Better than you know," I murmured, trying to hold back tears.

He gave me a confused look and rushed me to our room, where I broke down as soon as the door clicked shut. Carlisle caught me in his arms as I started to collapse and moved me to the bed. He held me until the strongest sobs subsided. Then he took my shoes off, brought me a box of tissue from the bathroom, and looked through my bag for pajamas.

I had brought a silky nightgown, but as he glanced over to see me blowing my nose and hiccuping, he grabbed a t-shirt from his bag instead. Tonight I needed comfort.

As he reached around my back to unzip my dress, I nuzzled my head into the nook of his shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You ok?" he asked, lifting my face with a finger under my chin.

I nodded sadly and shifted to change out of my dress and into the t-shirt.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I nodded again, not quite sure if I could talk without my voice breaking yet.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"For asking me to put on a show with you? Ezzy, you've done that for me a million times to get rid of unwelcome admirers. I'm happy to do the same for you."

"No, not that…"

"Well, what on earth do you have to feel sorry for? You're the one who's upset. Please tell me why."

"For not being good enough for you." I burst into tears.

"WHAT? What are you talking about?"

I took a deep breath and began, "Those three women were the worst of the cheerleaders. I think you recognized Maria, right?" He nodded. "I overheard them in the bathroom. They didn't know I was there and said some awful things… horrible things."

"Yeah?"

"They were talking about how sexy you are and how they wanted to offer you a threesome."

His eyes grew wide.

"They couldn't believe that you were with a prude like me because I could never be wild enough for you. They said that you just married me because I was good wife material for having babies and giving dinner parties for your boss but you probably keep a real woman on the side to meet your needs."

"Oh, dear god, Esme, you know I would NEVER…"

I held my hand up to stop him so I could continue. "Then Nettie said maybe I had a secret wild side and didn't they remember the theories about me senior year." He tilted his head questioningly.

"Seems people were calling me a whore because I had more money than they thought I should (which was my mom's life insurance) and 'cause I never ate lunch on campus (because I was so sick of high school that I always met you for lunch) and since I didn't try out for the squad again, I must be turning tricks on the weekends instead."

"WHAT? Are you fucking kidding me?" Carlisle was mad. He never swears.

"And then…"

"There's more? How could they possibly say anything more to hurt you? How could they say anything worse than that?" Carlisle's eyes were wet as he shook his head in rage.

"And then as they were leaving Maria said she wanted to get a closer look at you so she'd have a good picture for her fantasies and a name to scream out." I sniffed as tears fell down my cheeks.

"Oh my g-. No fucking way! Those slutty fucking bitches!" Carlisle shouted as he stood up and started to pace. He slapped the wall with each word, and covered his face as he paced a few laps around the room to calm himself down.

He was muttering under his breath about how he wished he were normal looking and how his stupid looks caused so much trouble for me, and how could anyone treat another person so badly.

I had never seen him so angry or heard him utter such foul language in the 21 years I had known him.

"Carlisle?" I patted the bed next to me and he sat, head in hands, elbows on knees as I rubbed his back and shoulders. "They're just jealous. I shouldn't have told you. It's a burden you don't need to bear. I'm sorry."

"What?! Dammit, Esme, I want you to tell me everything! It's NOT a burden. It's YOU." I flinched at his angry outburst. He put his hand on my shoulder to reassure me.

"I'm sorry, but jeez, I… I feel like Carmen knows you better than I do nowadays. We never talk anymore. I need you to talk to me…"

"You feel that way, too?"

He turned his head around to look back into my eyes and nodded. "Yes. I miss you. I miss… us… the way we used to be. You were my best friend."

"I miss you, too. That's another reason I was so upset tonight. Even before the cheerleaders, I was feeling insecure. Seeing all those people who are divorced and people who seem to have settled into unhappy lives set my mind thinking about how distant we've become.

I wonder if we're headed there, too? It seems like everything we've got in us goes to the kids or the job or the house, and all that you've got left for me is the leftover scraps. No love, no affection, no touch. I can't even remember the last time I had a good look in your beautiful blue eyes, Carlisle."

I started to cry again and he turned his body to face me, pulling me into his lap, watery eyes gazing sadly into mine. I sighed and continued. "And then to see ALL THOSE WOMEN staring at you all night… wanting you… and I know that happens all the time. I just feel so lonely and dead inside I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to find someone new and exciting. I trust you and I know you wouldn't stray, but I can see how easy it would be for you to do so. You're surrounded by temptation and opportunity every day and apparently I'm not _wild_ enough for a _fine piece of man_ like you." I spat out the final words, spitefully.

As I spoke, he buried his head in my chest and began to rock us gently.

"Ezzy… My Ezzy… I would never… never ever." He looked intently into my eyes, "I promised you love and fidelity until death do us part and I intend to keep that promise. No dumping, remember?"

My lips curved into a watery smile. "I'm scared of losing you, Carlisle. I hate what we've become." He tightened his arms around me once more.

"I'm so sorry I've stopped showing you how much you mean to me. I don't know how that happened. You're my one and only and I'm yours. That's a rare thing nowadays, and I'd never sacrifice it."

"Women don't want ME, Ezzy, they just covet my face, my body. You're the only one who truly knows me or wants ME." He placed my hand over his heart, covered with his own, and rested his forehead against mine.

A moment later, he lifted his head with a devious look in his eye and took a deep breath, puffing up his chest. "You just get this primo packaging as a special bonus," he boasted, quirking an eyebrow and flexing a bicep.

I snorted and pushed him over onto his back. "Shut up, you ego maniac. If they only knew that you're an even bigger prude than I am!" I laughed and kissed him.

"Hey! Everything I know I learned from you. No wild woman on the side is necessary, thankyouverymuch."

I sat up, pensive. "Really? Is it really enough? I only know what you've taught me, too, you know. But… do you ever wish you could try something new—with me, I mean! Do you have any… fantasies?" I blushed and looked down. "I mean, it was kind of exciting to hear you cuss, preacher boy." I looked up at him under my eyelashes.

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?" he asked, rolling us over so he was on top of me. "So if I whispered into your ear," and he did, "'Esme, my love, I'm going to fuck your brains out now' you'd like that?" I blushed, covered my mouth with my hand self consciously, and shrugged.

We both burst into laughter and rolled on the bed, kissing, cheerleaders and hurt feelings forgotten for now.

He didn't f- my brains out that night. He loved me. And I loved him. He sat at my feet and asked my forgiveness, and I asked his. We prayed together for help reigniting our marriage. And we worshipped each other, gazing into one another's eyes and feeling our love start to flow again with every gentle kiss, every trembling touch, every quavering breath, and every whispered promise.

I made love to the man inside the beautiful face and body, the compassionate, caring, tender soul who'd given stability and a sense of home to a lonely 17 year old orphan. And he made love to me, the girl who had brought art, beauty, and whimsy to his strict and structured existence as a preacher's only son. I invited him inside my body, something we had only ever shared with each other. Our souls touched each time we rocked, each time we pressed closer together, and they connected completely, becoming one as we climaxed.

"Carlisle… Esme… I love you…" we whispered together. No other words were necessary as tears flowed from our eyes, two green, two blue, and mixed on our cheeks. After years of hurt and neglect and complaisance we'd inflicted upon each other, we were forgiven. We were reborn.

* * *

**A/N**

**I'd love to hear YOUR reunion stories.**

**Besotted cures my comma problems. Many, many thanks!**

**Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.**

**Jen**


	5. Chapter 4--Bella: Riley's Birthday

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/9/12****. Re-posted 12/4/13**

* * *

**Chapter 4—Bella: Riley's Birthday**

April 28, 2012 (Saturday)

I'd gotten 4 ½ hours of sleep when my sweaty husband, just in from his run, nudged me awake. "Hey, Babe. It's 7:30. Time to get up."

"Mmmm… Gimme another half hour," I groaned, still exhausted from my late night decorating the truck cake.

He shook my shoulder again from where he stood next to the bed, "Nope. You told me to get you up at 7:30. Come on. How late were you up last night, anyway?"

"Uhm…" I yawned and wiped the sleep from my eyes. "3:00, I think."

"Oh, Bell," he sighed. "Well, I started some coffee downstairs. That'll perk you up. C'mon." He yanked the covers off of me and pulled me by the hands into a sitting position. My body passed right through the upright position and didn't stop moving until my head flopped into his stomach.

"Eww!" I recoiled and lay back down, covering my face with my elbow. A face full of his sweat-drenched shirt was not a pleasant way to regain consciousness.

Edward laughed, "That'll wake you up! C'mon—up and at 'em!" He clapped three times and headed toward the shower.

"Hey," he mentioned as he stepped into the shower, "I invited Leah, by the way. They might stop by today." I frowned and tried to stave off a pang of jealousy toward Edward's bestie. They work together and bonded over him being the 'kid' and her being the 'girl' among the old-boy doctors' club. If that weren't enough, now since Edward joined the hospital marathon team they train together, too. All the time. It doesn't help that she is gorgeous. And powerful. A little scary. And completely awesome.

She is not your typical cardiologist. She's in her mid 30s, has straight jet-black hair that falls to the middle of her back, is almost six feet tall without the high heels she always wears, and sports very fashionable designer clothes (typically with short skirts) under her lab coat. Edward said that the joke around the hospital is that she sends half her patients back into cardiac arrest once they wake up from surgery and see her.

Her husband Seth is her polar opposite. They're a hoot. He's a freelance graphic designer/creative director, and is the most laid back, easy going, friendly surfer dude you'd ever meet, but he's sharp as a tack and extremely successful despite his casual demeanor.

I didn't honestly think that Edward cheated on me with her—that was just my 2:30 am exhaustion making me paranoid last night—or was it? Whatever that was I witnessed last week was still bothering me, but he wouldn't cheat on me… would he?

"Great." _Can't wait to have her outshine me at my own party, too. Thanks, Edward. _

Half an hour later, dressed and mostly revived by the coffee, pre-party preparations were in full force. My friend Alice came over early, bringing helium balloons and bags of ice to save us a trip to the store.

Alice Whitlock is great. She is quickly becoming my closest friend, even though we are an unlikely pair of opposites. She's a really talented clothing designer currently disguised as a personal shopper at Nordstrom.

We met when she helped me pick out an outfit for a benefit that Edward and I had to attend a month ago, and just clicked almost immediately. We knew the first day we met that we'd be the best of friends.

She and her husband, Jasper, moved here a little over a year ago from Texas. He found a job as a history professor at UCSD after completing his Ph.D., so they got married, packed up their bags and came west.

They don't have kids yet, but Alice loves to practice by hanging out with Riley and me, so of course she wouldn't miss his birthday party. For my part, I enjoy living their kid-free adventures vicariously through her. It's a win-win friendship, definitely.

"Oh my god, Bella, this picture is so great! You got it framed! It looks so much better than the grainy one in the paper."

"What's that?" Esme had just set up the tablecloths outside and had come in to get some of the food, which I was pouring into bowls and displaying on platters in the kitchen.

"Bella, didn't you tell her? This gorgeous picture was on the front page of the newspaper last month. Full size!"

"It was Edward's 30 Under 30 thing. I don't know why they picked our picture. Must have been the dress!"

"Definitely the dress," Alice giggled.

"Ohhh, look at the two of you," Esme smiled and threw me a pointed look.

I nodded. "It was a good night…" _It ended up being a good night, anyway_.

…

I remembered that evening a month ago. I had been in a rush to get ready for the awards banquet. Riley had dumped his dinner all over the place so I had to spend extra time wiping up the floor and getting him cleaned up. Then as soon as I'd gotten him into a fresh change of clothes, he dirtied his diaper, so I had to change that, too, leaving me not much time to get myself fancied up. Forget the up-do Alice suggested for my hair!

The doorbell rang and my panic increased. _I'll never be ready in time_.

"Can you get that? It's the babysitter," I yelled while trying to poke an earring through my ear. I grabbed my toothbrush and checked my profile in the mirror, trying not to drip any bubbly toothpaste onto my dress. _Well, the Spanx are helping a little, but I still don't like that pooch sticking out_. I frowned and turned to face myself, smacked my hands against my hips as if that would make them smaller, shook my head in resignation, and turned away to spit and rinse my mouth.

"Bell, we gotta go! You comin'?" Edward called from downstairs.

I threw the tube of lipstick into my clutch, checking in the mirror to be sure there was none on my teeth, and hurried downstairs with a huff.

"Wow, you look great. You ready?" His hand was already on the doorknob, anxious to leave, but I couldn't go without a hug and a kiss for Riley.

"I love you, Baby. Be good for Miss Sarah, ok?" I reluctantly let him go and began spewing out instructions for the babysitter. I'd written her a note, but I needed to be sure.

Five minutes later, Edward was losing patience. "Bella, she's got it. Let's go!"

I backed out the door, blowing kisses as Edward pulled me to his car. "Jeez, Bella, I can't be late to this. I'm a recipient for god's sake. Hurry up and get in!"

I sank into the seat. "Sorry!"

He revved the engine to life before my door was even closed, and darted out of the driveway far too fast for my comfort. I felt so small in his little Beamer, zipping through traffic to try to make up lost time. My Lexus SUV feels a lot safer.

"Oh, shoot, I forgot to…"

"WHAT?!" he snapped.

"Nothing! I just forgot to tell Sarah that Riley's favorite jammies are in the dryer. Don't worry about it," I insisted, reaching for my phone.

He rolled his eyes and cursed at a red light as I made the quick call.

"Ok." I sat back in my seat and tried to switch gears, baby mode into adult schmoozey mode, taking a deep breath to calm myself down.

I looked over at my husband, jaw locked tight, knuckles gripped white on the steering wheel. "Nervous?" I asked, smoothing a short lock of hair behind his ear.

He glanced my way and shrugged, nonchalantly. "No, I just don't like being late." _So testy!_

"I'm sorry."

He nodded, curtly.

"So, can you tell me more about what you've done to earn this so that I can maintain a coherent conversation with these people?" I asked, half laughing.

He scoffed in disbelief, "You're asking me this now? We'll be there in 20 minutes."

"So give me the 20 minute version. I think I can keep up."

"Just tell them I fix broken hearts, and I do it better than anyone else."

_Oh no he did not…_

"Right. Great." I over-pronounced my Ts. "_That's_ the image you want to convey? The hot shot young doctor with the _bimbo_ trophy wife? Thanks," I spat. As if it weren't bad enough already in these professional situations when people ask what I do.

There are three typical reactions to a stay at home mom:

1. The conversation grinds to a halt because nothing I have to say can possibly hold any value to the person I'm talking to.

2. The person I'm speaking to instantly dumbs down the conversation and starts talking to me like a child.

Or 3. On rare occasions, the person I'm speaking to will understand the value and temporary nature of child rearing and carry on their conversation with me as the intelligent adult that I am.

Of course, I need to have something intelligent to say if option three is going to happen, which Edward was withholding from me tonight.

"No! It's just that you should have cared about this sometime _before_ we were in the car on the way there. It's a little more complex than I can explain to you right now."

Great. Edward has chosen option number 2—the patronizing jerk!

"Edward, I've created media campaigns based on 15 minutes of information. Gimme your best shot. Bimbo trophy wife is not an image that's going to attract business to you or to Greene. That's just one step up from the very worst, the bachelor man-whore. No 60 year old CEO wants a 28 year old kid who was probably out partying last night to operate on his heart. A brilliant, dedicated family man who happens to be a 28 year old wunderkind—totally different story. They'll flock to you.

The Union-Tribune is the sponsor of this event. It's going to be crawling with media, some of whom I probably know from my past life before I became _invisible_.

Now give me five fricken' talking points about what you do so I can hold an intelligent conversation with them and spin this award in a way that makes you and the hospital look good."

"So, you're my PR person now? What about Heidi?"

"I won't step on her toes, but she works for the hospital, not for you. You want Intelligent PR Wife, or do you want Bimbo Trophy Wife? Your image. Your choice."

He started talking. _Smart boy_.

Once we got past our… misunderstanding in the car, we had a great time. We dined, we danced.

Edward was the belle of the ball, among the older half of the crowd anyway. There was a definite age divide at the 30 Under 30 event.

After a very brief acceptance speech where he humbly gave credit to his team—joking that it was a group effort but he was the only one who met the age requirement for this award—to his dad, whom he said inspired the search for this new technology, and, surprisingly, to me, he was on fire, talking up the newspaper execs and other sponsors of the event.

We heard so many heart attack stories and Edward was right there to commiserate and offer advice, explaining how the new procedure he and his team had developed would help so many of those stories turn out better.

I was able to fudge a little and say that I was a part time media consultant (the car ride and the event tonight counted as part time, right?) as well as a dedicated mom. That won Edward some brownie points, just as I predicted.

The dress Alice helped me choose worked, too. We were a bright blue sapphire amid a sea of black. Eyes were drawn to the handsome Dr. Cullen and his wife in the pretty blue dress all night. Cameras were, too.

It was fun to be the center of attention, but it was also exhausting. Edward asked me to dance and it was, surprisingly, the most restful part of the event.

"I'm glad you're here tonight," he said. "I wouldn't want to come without you." He's an introvert at heart.

"You're doing great, Clarkie. They all love you. Thanking me in your speech was a nice touch."

"I didn't say it for them. I said it because it's true. I couldn't do anything nearly as well without you there, holding me up, taking good care of me."

I smiled, but I didn't believe him. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and he held me closer as we swayed.

"Could you believe that guy telling me about his…" We talked and laughed about the people we'd met and stories we'd heard that night. Some people have no shame. They'll tell a doctor _anything_.

After a few hours and a lot of hobnobbing, we were ready to go home. When we arrived**,** Edward offered his hand and helped pull me up out of the cavernous car, straight into his arms.

"Thanks for tonight. For everything." He kissed me and pulled me closer, placing a hand behind my neck as he deepened his kisses.

"Hold on, Romeo. You need to take the babysitter home first."

He kissed me once more and backed away, taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts. "Right."

He took Sarah home and I hurried upstairs to check on Riley and peel off my Spanx, excited to show him the pretty little under garments that matched my dress.

"That was quick. Eager to get home?" I teased when he returned.

"You look so beautiful tonight. I'm glad I made it back before you changed."

"Well, you're just in time." I turned my back to him and raised my hair so he could unzip my dress. He trailed his fingers along my neck and shoulders before grasping the zipper pull and inching it down, slowly loosening my gown. He gasped when it dropped to the floor, leaving me in a corset and panties the same color as the dress.

"Oh, Babe, did you get this for me?"

I smiled and nodded as he nuzzled my neck and traced his fingers along the lace that covered my bust, pulling me back to his chest. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and raised an arm up and around his neck.

I turned to face him and nudged the jacket off his shoulders, pushing him toward his closet as I picked my dress up off the floor and draped it over the edge of the bathtub so we wouldn't step on it.

He returned from the closet, tie loosened and working to unbutton his cuffs. I started on the buttons down his front, revealing a few inches more of his toned chest with each one I opened. I turned up his collar and slid his shirt off, leaving the blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. When he questioned this, I shrugged and said, "We match."

I grabbed the tie and dragged him toward the bedroom as he worked to open his belt and lower his fly. He stumbled a little, trying to walk and take his pants off at the same time. He rested his hand on the back of the couch for balance as we passed through our sitting room, hopping on one foot as he worked the slacks over the other one.

I pulled him the rest of the way by his silk leash with the pants pooled around one ankleand pushed him onto the bed crouching down to free his other foot. Kneeling on the floor between his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his hands, I slowly ran my fingers up his thighs, his hips, his abs, his chest, savoring the feel of his toned muscles, and finally landing on his shoulders. I had to lean into him a bit to reach that high, and he caught his breath when my abdomen brushed against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs.

After massaging his shoulders a few times, I smoothed my flat hands, one after the other down the length of his tie, from knot to point, petting the smooth silk as I complimented him.

"Baby, do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are?" I asked him. He smiled, eyes closed. "No one could take their eyes off of you tonight. The brilliant, gorgeous, confident young doctor who saves lives every day."

"All those women wanted you. All those men wanted to be you. And they didn't even know about this." I continued to slide my hand down beyond the bottom of his tie, coming to rest on his erection.

With a couple of firm passes up and down his length, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulled them off, freeing his penis with a slight bounce, which made me giggle. I kissed my way up his inner thighs and licked him from base to tip.

"Mmmm…" he hummed and dropped his head back.

I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and swirled my tongue around before plunging him deep into my mouth. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft, pumping to the same rhythm.

"Oh, Bell… OH, my god… Mmmm…" He raked his fingers through my hair as I sped up.

I reached down and cupped his balls, giving him a few more urgent passes and a strong suck to his head before releasing him from my lips and climbing on top of his body. I loved giving him pleasure, but I needed more, desperately.

I gripped his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my chest. I could feel his hot breath in my cleavage. He rolled us over and crashed his mouth into mine, kissing, sucking, licking, nipping. Quickly. Fervently.

He sat up, straddling me, and unhooked the corset I still wore—five little hooks down the front—until it popped open and I sprung free from its constriction. He grinned and backed off the bed, sliding my panties off as he did.

Then he stood, his cock sticking out and pointing right at me, and loosened the tie from around his neck, sliding it off seductively.

I swallowed the excess drool that was forming in my mouth and kicked my way to the center of our California King. Edward pushed the duvet to the foot of the bed before crawling his way toward me.

He hovered over my body, resting on his elbows and placing soft kisses on my face in between his words.

"You. Are so. Beautiful. Ungh. (I had lifted my pelvis, making contact with his.) And witty. And smart. And perfect." He smiled.

"I was afraid to leave your side tonight, lest someone sweep you away from me. He ran his knuckles along my cheek and lifted my chin to align our lips for a deep, passionate kiss.

He moved his hand to my breast and squeezed it gently, passing his thumb over the nipple and making me squirm as our tongues danced.

He moved down to suckle first one and then the other and I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he made me feel so good.

He lifted back up, gazing into my eyes as we aligned our hips and he slowly pushed inside me.

I flinched and sucked in a breath with a hiss.

He stopped immediately. "Still?" he asked, frustrated. "Are you ok?"

I nodded. "Just give me a sec. Wait right there." I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Edward shook his head and rolled off me. "Where is it?"

"In the drawer." I answered, helpful and apologetic.

He shook the tube and squeezed some lubricant onto his fingers with a gurgling fart sound—very romantic. Snapping the lid shut, Edward rolled back over to me and applied the gel between my legs. "Can't Gerandy do something to fix this?" he asked, annoyed at my OB/GYN.

"He said it just takes time."

"How much time for christ sakes? It's been almost two years."

I shrugged my shoulders and furrowed my brow. "Sorry… It's not as bad as it used to be."

He softened, seeing that I was upset. "Well, that's good. But I don't want it to hurt you at all, Babe."

He gave me a tender kiss and then, ever the curious researcher, Edward started exploring with his fingers. Some of it was just for me, making me squirm and clench my legs together with a chuckle. And some of it was to quell his desire to fix me. With a fingertip inside me and his thumb on the outside rim of my opening, Edward felt around.

"Ah, here it is. Does that hurt?" he ran his fingers over what must have been the scar tissue that had formed down there. I tried not to reveal any pain, but a tiny grunt managed to escape. "Jeez, what kind of sloppy-ass sutures did he give you?"

"Edward?"

"I think this can be fixed. We just need to…"

"Edward! Stop! It's fine. Childbirth was the part that hurt. This is just a little scar, a little ache. It's no big deal. Come on," I begged. I reached down and stroked him, trying to reignite the fire we'd had just moments before.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Shh… You won't. The lube makes it all better, so just…" I pulled him over onto me.

He moved his fingers to my clit, but I moved his hand away and placed it on my breast. "Just love me."

I didn't want an orgasm—too much work. My mind wasn't in the right place for that at the moment.

I just wanted to feel him on top of me and inside of me, I wanted him to kiss me and love me and cherish me, so I put my hands on his ass and pulled him into me, slowly, gently.

After two slow and careful thrusts in and out, I declared myself to be ok and we gradually sped up, reaching full speed, full power, full heat after just a few moments.

As we made love, I remembered how attractive he'd looked at the party, dressed up and so handsome in a suit and tie; happy and confident, drinking in the crowd's adulation; talking animatedly to people whom he held in rapt attention; pulling me in close to his body as we danced, showing everyone that he was taken—he was mine.

He's so sexy, and he's all mine.

"Oh, Superman," I sighed, using the other half of his pet name.

He came soon thereafter, bursting with pleasure and a curse, just as I had started to feel the lubricant dissipating and a hint of soreness threatening to return.

Perfect timing. And a perfect end to our magical night at the ball

When I awoke, he was gone. His side of the bed was cold. "Running," was all that the yellow sticky note on the kitchen table said. He's training for a marathon, and I knew that I wouldn't see him until lunchtime.

I sighed and placed a bowl of yogurt on Riley's high chair tray. "It's just you and me today, kiddo. Wanna go to church?"

"See Miss Becca?"

"Yes, you can go to the nursery and see Miss Rebecca. Sounds fun, huh?" He clapped his hands and squealed, eager to see his Sunday school teacher.

The paper printed a huge picture of Edward and me that Sunday, front and center on the special section they printed about the event and all of the recipients. In it, we were on the dance floor, both of our heads tipped back and laughing at something one of us had said. We looked young, happy, and beautiful—the perfect image of the 30 Under 30 award.

I framed that picture and put it on our bookshelf as a reminder that we do have good times together. Times I try to remember when I'm feeling lonely or unappreciated.

…

I set the picture back on the shelf and looked at Esme. "We do have some good times." _Just not enough_, I thought, realizing that that night a month ago had been the last time we'd made love or really talked or smiled much.

"Of course you do. And you'll have many more." She handed me a plastic toolbox full of sandwiches and the tray from it full of mixed nuts with some of Riley's plastic toy bolts scattered on top.

"Oh my gosh, Bella. Nuts and bolts? That is too cute," Alice exclaimed as we all headed outside, arms laden with party food.

Riley's party was a big hit among the two year old crowd and their parents. I had gathered lots of ideas on a web site called "birthday party ideas" to plan the coolest truck party ever.

It was great timing, since our landscaping and future pool are currently under construction.

From the moment Riley's friends donned their plastic hard hats and orange vests and stepped inside the yellow construction zone tape in the backyard, they had a blast.

Too young for organized games, our 14 little guests kept busy digging for treasures in the dirt with toy trucks, stacking cardboard boxes and knocking them down, and rolling toy trucks through paint and over paper to draw with the tire treads. All was great fun.

The high point was when our landscapers parked one of their real backhoes and a giant pile of dirt in our cul-de-sac and let the children take turns sitting with the driver and working the arm and bucket. That brought squeals of delight from the short people and high praise from their parents.

"Bella, this party is amazing." I approached a group of four or five moms from Riley's playgroup.

"Is that truck in the dining room really made of cake?" Kim wondered.

I nodded.

"This is no Chuck E. Cheese. Will you plan Emma's next birthday in September? Please?" she begged.

"Seriously, Bella, you could start a business doing this!" Emily suggested.

"It's true," my mother-in-law agreed as she walked past, "You're very talented. You'd be great."

_Hmmm_… I guess it's something to think about.

"I think Connor peed himself when he saw the backhoe. And my husband almost had a heart attack. Good thing there's a doctor in the house." Jessica is always so crass.

"There are two, actually. Edward's father is a heart surgeon up in Seattle."

"Oh, like father like son, huh? Which one's his dad?" Claire asked, looking around.

"Um…" I scanned the crowd for Carlisle.

"Speaking of Edward, how did you ever get him to dress up as a construction foreman? He looks really hot in flannel and scruff. And that toolbelt!" Jessica sucked in a breath. "Goes great with the sex hair."

I gasped in shock and looked at her in disbelief. She smirked. "Really, Bella, it's unfair to keep all those looks to himself. He needs to spread some of them around to the other men."

I shook my head in disbelief and then assessed my husband across the yard. She was right, actually. He did look good. Really good. He was friendly and confident, laughing and talking to some of the other dads. That's the man I fell in love with. The one I married. It seems that lately all I've seen is the stressed-out, serious Edward.

"There's at least one other guy here who caught some." Claire cut in. "Did you see the blonde over there talking to that glamazon? Over there where the kids are stacking the boxes." She pointed him out.

"Yeah, the middle aged guy? Bella, who is that?"

I laughed again, "Oh, there he is!" _Talking to Leah Clearwater—great! Make that three doctors in the house._ "THAT is Edward's father. And the lady over there by the cooler is his mom."

"Wow, what a gene pool. I can see why Edward is so good looking." Claire enthused, raising my hackles.

"No way, they don't look old enough! He must be adopted or something." Emily seemed to be the most practical member of the group. I think she was an engineer before staying home with her kids.

"No, they're around 60. Edward has an older brother, too."

"You're kidding!"

"Well, if Dr. Cullen Sr. is any indication, Edward is going to age _very_ nicely." I felt like throttling Claire. Jessica, I expected this from, but Claire surprised me.

"And think of little Riley! He's destined to be quite a looker, too. I bet all these little girls will be hanging around your house again in 10 or 15 years." Kim added. She seems to be the most normal of the playgroup moms. I was surprised that she joined in on this conversation.

"Oh my gosh. I don't even want to think about that. He's only two!" I lamented.

"So, if Edward is a DILF, does that make Grandpa Cullen a GILF?"

"You guys, jeez…" I was getting really uncomfortable hearing all these women talk about my husband and my father-in-law that way.

"Really! How can you sit across from them at the dinner table and maintain a coherent conversation?" Claire prodded.

"Well, they're even more beautiful on the inside. My mother-in-law, too. The Cullens are wonderful people. I'm so lucky to have married into their family."

"Lucky is right. You'd better hold on to that boy tight!" I couldn't believe Jessica said that. Was that a threat?

"Hi girls," Alice greeted as she approached, "Are we all having fun?"

"We're just admiring the scenery."

"Oh, you've seen the Cullen boys, huh? I know what you mean."

"Alice, not you, too!"

"Sorry, Bella. Listen, ladies, if you're not busy Tuesday night, get the guys to watch the kids and please come to my Passionista party. I don't know if you've ever been to one, but they are so much fun! Lots of toys for us girls to play with."

She handed out postcards. "Bring a friend! Oh look, there's Esme, Riley's grandma."

Esme approached Carlisle, handing him a bottle of water and joining the conversation with Leah. She'd already taken the lid off for him.

"Watch them, they're insatiable," Alice said. "I bet they'll have their hands on each other within five seconds."

I laughed. She's so right.

"Five… four… three... two…"

Carlisle pulled Esme in for a kiss and draped his arm around her shoulders as he enjoyed his drink.

"See? What'd I tell you? They can't keep their hands off each other. It's so cute."

"If I had a husband who looked like that, I'd be all over him, too." Jessica again. I swear, she has no shame.

I'd had enough of that conversation and checked my watch. "Ok… Time for cake and presents!"

I waved Edward over and asked him to gather everyone around while I brought the cake out. Then I grabbed his hand and tipped my chin up for a kiss. He obliged with a knowing smirk. _He's mine… Back off, girls_.

The party was over. The presents were unwrapped. The backhoe had been loaded onto its trailer and hauled away. The cake, hard as it was to destroy my sculpture, was cut and eaten. Riley had crashed hard for his nap after all the excitement that morning, and we four adults were cleaning up the mess.

As Esme and I picked up wrapping paper scraps, paper napkins, popped balloons, and other trash from the yard I asked, "How do you stand it, Esme? I couldn't believe how my friends were staring at Edward and Carlisle. And the things they were saying about them, right in front of me. It was appalling!"

"I know. I thought I'd see that less over time, but Carlisle's just improved with age, and now he's seen as distinguished and successful and rich, which makes it even worse. You may be in for the same ride, Honey!" she sighed.

"But as hard as it is for us, it's an even worse burden on the guys," she said. "They have to live with it every day—people not taking them seriously, women staring but not listening, men reacting with aggression or competitiveness. I think that's why they work so hard to be the best at what they do—to put the focus on their accomplishments instead of their looks."

"Maybe so. It's just so disappointing to see my friends behaving this way. Most of them are married women—with children—and they were going on and on about how hot our husbands are. Jessica even called Edward a DILF right to my face, for crying out loud!"

"I've heard that before, but I don't know what it stands for."

"Oh my gosh, Esme, it means Dad I'd Like to F-."

She laughed. "That is blatant, isn't it? Maybe we can go to this party on Tuesday and have a little fun with them."

"You mean you're ok with them talking about Carlisle like that?"

"No, Bella, of course not, but it is something I've learned how to live with. All the ogling and lusty comments and the outright propositions used to make me feel really insecure and jealous, but Carlisle said something one time that made me feel a lot better. I think it's how he deals with it himself."

"I told him how jealous I was of all those women looking at him and wanting him all the time. I told him how insecure it made me feel that even though I trusted him, I knew he had opportunity thrown at him constantly."

" He thanked me for loving him and told me not to worry, because they don't really want HIM at all, they just like the packaging. He told me that I am the ONLY one who truly knows him or wants him for what he is on the inside, which is the only part that really matters."

"And then his ego kicked in and he said that I get the pretty package as an extra bonus."

I giggled. "That's so sweet. He's really a wonderful man, isn't he?"

"He is… I'm so proud that Edward has turned out to be so much like him."

_Hmm_… I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I couldn't say anything out loud. I couldn't imagine Edward saying something so sweet just to reassure me. It would be more his style to dismiss my fears with a comment like, "Don't be ridiculous, Bella."

Carlisle and Esme offered to watch Riley that night so Edward and I could go out alone for the evening. I hated to turn down a rare opportunity like that, but I was so tired that I just wanted to turn in early. I needed sleep.

"Can we take a rain check and go later in the week?" I asked.

"I can't stay out late on a work night. If you want to do this let's just go now," Edward whined. _Like it's such a chore to go out with me_.

"We don't have to go out late. I could meet you near the hospital."

"Listen, we'll work something out before it's time for us to go home, ok?" Esme, interjected, always the peacemaker.

"Edward, I think your dad is looking for someone to play chess with. I have some reading to catch up on for work, so why don't you go play? And Bella was up very late working on her beautiful cake. She really needs to get some rest."

"Good night, Honey." She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You're an amazing mom, you know that?"

I smiled.

"Great party, Bell. Everybody loved it. And that cake was amazing." Edward kissed me on the forehead.

"Thanks. Good night."

He gave me a quick kiss and said, "'Night. I'll be up later." I was asleep long before he got there.

* * *

**A/N**

**Besotted helps in many, many ways. I owe her many, many thanks!**

**Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.**

**JEN **


	6. Chapter 5—Esme: Carlisle's Birthday

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/16/12****. Re-posted 12/7/13**

* * *

**Chapter 5—Esme: Carlisle's Birthday**

August 1990

Since the class reunion, things were getting better between Carlisle and me. "Saving the Marriage" became my latest project, and I threw myself into it, researching all the relationship books I could find and implementing every love-improvement technique that I thought would help.

I read somewhere that modeling a strong, happy marriage for your kids is the best gift you can ever give them, so I stopped feeling guilty for wanting some of Carlisle's time and attention for myself. It was a relief to know that my husband was as committed to improving our marriage as I was, and we were able to agree to some changes.

First, we got our priorities in order. We reaffirmed the "no dumping" rule that we had established on our honeymoon, essentially taking separation or divorce out of our vocabulary and out of the realm of consideration. We agreed to put each other first, kids second, job and house after that. I realized that Carlisle wouldn't be able to radically reduce his hours at the hospital, and I didn't expect him to, but he agreed to make more effort to be home and to turn his beeper off when he could.

We made an effort to pay more attention to each other, give compliments and show affection. We did nice things to help each other out and left notes and little gifts to surprise each other. He blocked out time in his planner at the office for family events, the boys' ball games, and some time just for the two of us. I met him for lunch once a week and started taking cooking classes to try to better reach his heart through his stomach.

Best of all, we committed to going out on regular date nights every other week, limiting talk of work and kids to the first 15 minutes so we could spend most of our alone-time getting reacquainted.

Carlisle made an effort to come home earlier and I made an effort to come to bed earlier, where we had a lot of great conversations before falling asleep.

He still did things that bothered me or hurt my feelings on occasion, and I'm sure I did things that irked him, too, but we were both making the choice every day to become best friends again, to fall back in love, and to stay there for good. Some days were harder than others, but our relationship was definitely improving—in all areas but one.

We had only made love a handful of times in the three months since my class reunion. We were both so busy and tired that most of the time we didn't even think about it. Sleep seemed more important.

Both of us were pretty shy and inexperienced in the bedroom so we didn't have ravenous sexual appetites. He'd been raised in a very strict religious family and taught that sex for anything but procreation was sinful and dirty. I had lost my parents very young and was raised by my grandmother, who avoided uncomfortable conversations about sex entirely, advising me only to "be good" and "save myself for marriage."

We met young—I was a junior in high school visiting my sick grandmother in the hospital. He was a freshman in college working there part time between pre-med classes. We fell in love and eventually gave our virginity to each other, so everything we knew about sex (which wasn't much), we learned together.

My relationship improvement research included some eye-popping information about lovemaking. Some things I had heard of but never dreamed of trying, and other things I'd never imagined. Romance novels were another source of explicit jaw-dropping descriptions of love and romance.

I wondered if we could make things more exciting and romantic after marriage and kids. The words of my cheerleader nemesis at the class reunion still stung, and I was determined to improve my physical relationship with Carlisle, to be more for him.

One night I went up to bed early after reading a titillating story in which a girl taught her friend how to give a blow job. I was embarrassed to read it, but also kind of excited to learn a new technique, and I wanted to try it out.

I'd rarely done that on Carlisle in the past. I just didn't know what I was doing, and neither of us liked it that much. My jaw would get so sore and he seemed to like it ok, but he never climaxed until we switched to my hand, or worse, his own.

Carlisle was surprised that night when I wanted to try it again. Pleasantly surprised, I'm happy to say! I went down on him in a whole new way, lubricating my hand first and pumping him with it where my mouth didn't reach, swirling my tongue around his tip with each pull, massaging his balls with my other hand.

I was so pleased when he said he was about to come. _I'm doing this better,_ I thought. His eyes widened when he realized that I wasn't moving off of him. I think that thought alone excited him enough to push him over the edge. I took his semen into my mouth. It made me feel so sexy. I didn't mind having it in my mouth, but swallowing it was gross. I had to try a few times and it made me gag.

"Sorry," I apologized. I wanted to do this right for him, to make it great.

"What are you sorry for? That was fantastic. It's never felt like that before. I thought I didn't like blow jobs. But, oh, Ezzy, that was spectacular. Thank you."

I was so happy to have pleased him and proud to have done a good job, even if my first attempt at swallowing hadn't gone so well. But then I was deeply saddened to realize that for all these years we'd been missing out on something that brought him so much pleasure. The man had never liked blow jobs... unbelievable! But he'd never liked them because I had never given him one worth liking.

I felt so guilty and frustrated at my lack of experience. As cruel and hurtful as Maria's words had been, they held a kernel of truth. Carlisle did deserve more than I'd been giving him. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know how. I'd never slept around and learned things from different men. I didn't share private details of my sex life with my friends, so I didn't learn things from them.

That left me with books. I started buying Cosmo at the grocery store. I got stacks of books from the library and the bookstore, conquering my fear of embarrassment and shame when I checked them out at the counter. I read and I learned. I learned a lot.

One night as we were going to sleep, I asked Carlisle, "Do you have any fantasies? Is there anything we've never done that you'd like to try?" He paused for a long time. I could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was too embarrassed to admit it. "Tell me," I urged.

"Uhm… It might be fun to watch someone else having sex and see what they do." He took a deep breath, nervous, I could tell. "And maybe have them watch us, too. I don't think I could actually go through with that, though." He shook his head repeatedly.

_So_, I thought, _my preacher boy is a voyeur_. Or maybe he was just as curious to learn new things as I was.

"Maybe we could rent a porno movie sometime and watch people that way. We've got the VCR in here."

He nodded. "That's a good idea. And maybe we could make a video of ourselves doing it sometime. That might be kind of like having someone watch us. And then we could watch it ourselves and have sex while we watched ourselves having sex."

I took a deep breath and snorted out a nervous laugh. "Carlisle!" I giggled, "I guess we could do that, but we'd have to erase it right away, ok? If the kids ever found it…"

"Oh my gosh…" he laughed.

…

My husband's birthday was coming up, and I wanted to give him something in the bedroom as a special gift, maybe play out that fantasy that he'd talked about. I decided to rent a XXX movie for his birthday and to get some items to play with in bed. I had seen an adult bookstore on my way to the landfill when I dropped off cans for recycling, so I headed over there after dropping the boys off at school one day.

I hoped that it wouldn't be busy on a Monday morning at 10:00 am. I parked in back where no one would see my car, waiting nervously for about 20 minutes before I got the guts to go inside. There was a young guy inside sweeping the floor, covered in tattoos. A grizzly older man, probably about 50, sat behind the checkout counter. I was glad that neither of them greeted me as I headed as far away from them as I could get.

I looked at the items on the shelves and read the labels with a morbid curiosity. Cock rings, butt beads, nipple clamps, double dildos (_huh?_) and vibrators in every size, shape, and color imaginable. Some were molded from actual porn stars' penises. (Hmm, I guess Carlisle is pretty well endowed. I'd never seen another man's and had always wondered how he measured up.) Others looked way too large to be real. How could that ever fit? Only during childbirth had I ever stretched out that wide. It must be a gag gift.

I selected something more realistic with a name similar to one I'd heard the characters on a cable TV show talking about. Hot pink. There were racks of magazines and videos with naked women spreading themselves wide for the world to see. _Sad_. There were skimpy outfits and naughty underwear and a whole rack of different kinds of lubricant.

I was overwhelmed and more than a little freaked out at all this stuff. I hadn't picked out anything except my vibrator, and was going to just leave it and go, but I convinced myself that since I had gotten up the nerve to come in here, I'd better well leave with something for Carlisle.

Up in the front of the shop, between the cashier and the door (an area I had been avoiding) there was a shelf unit full of things that seemed more my speed. Little party favors and naughty gifts, (A penis shaped lollipop? Lovely!) boxed sets of candles and lubricants, how-to books and sexy card games.

I picked up some flavored lubricant, a card game, and a candle whose wax doubles as massage oil when it's melted. Then I saw something I wanted, but was too embarrassed to pick up: "Beginner's Bondage Set." It contained a blindfold and satin restraints for wrists and feet.

Through my reading I'd learned that some people, typically high-powered men who make big decisions every day and often lead many people, tend to enjoy bondage and submission because it lets them relinquish control for awhile.

That sounded like Carlisle. He literally held peoples lives in his hands every day, and now that he was working his way up into management at the hospital, he had to oversee the budget and all the people who worked for him, making lots of tough decisions. Would he like to let go of that control for a night and let me be the boss? _Hmm… it's worth a try_. I put the box in my basket and moved to the counter. This was the difficult part for me—facing the cashier—and I'm sure my face was red as a beet.

"A lot of people who get the bondage set also get this silk flogger. It's like a big tassel, very gentle," he added, running his fingers through it. "Would you like to add that?"

"Um… No thanks." I didn't think we were ready for something like that. Too scary. I was nervous and my mouth started rattling things off to the man behind the counter. I told this stranger in a porn shop how it was my husband's birthday and we'd been married for 16 years but never tried anything like this and I'd really wanted to get him a movie, but was too overwhelmed with how many there were to pick one out…

"Oh, I can help you with that. What do you guys like?"

"Uh… I don't know. We've never seen one before."

He was shocked. "Really? Well, the ladies tend to like the ones with a little more story to them, like we have on this wall over here."

I saw some videos that were take-offs on a popular series of novels I enjoyed reading, so I grabbed one of those, thinking that it would be like the book, just with the sex scenes included. With that, I was ready to go. I couldn't believe I did it!

The next morning I got up early to serve my husband breakfast in bed. I awakened HIM with a kiss for once. "Good morning, Sunshine! Happy 41!"

"Argh! Am I really that old? How did that happen? Can I just stay forty forever?"

"Time flies, huh? Don't worry, you're even cuter now than you were at 19, Mister!"

"Yeah, right!"

"Really! You're not that scrawny little boy anymore." I moved my eyes up and down his body, lingering on his perfectly toned chest, and felt my pulse race.

He smiled seductively and took a bite of his cheese-filled strawberry blintz. "Mmmm… this is delicious, Es. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sweetheart."

"Did you get up early just for me?"

I nodded.

"Wow, you must love me or something."

I laughed. "Or something! Do you have time for lunch today? I could come and meet you."

"No, it's Tuesday. It's hard enough to squeeze in a little thing like patient care on meeting days." He rolled his eyes. "I'll have to grab something quick from the cafeteria. Man, I hate Tuesdays."

"Well, I hope this one is better than most." I wished him with a kiss to the temple.

"It is so far."

"Here, open your presents before the boys get up," I urged, sitting at the foot of the bed. "This one is for this morning, and that bag has something for later." He opened the designer shirt and tie I'd bought. "I figured that since you're a big executive now, you'll have to start dressing the part."

"This is really nice. Thanks."

"The other one is a little more… personal."

"Really, what is it?"

"Open it!" I looked over my shoulder to ensure the door was closed. I was so nervous about how he would react.

Carlisle pulled the tissue paper from the top of the gift bag and looked inside. His eyebrows lifted up high as he pulled out the video tape. "Where did you get this stuff?"

I told him the story of my adventure at the adult book store. He cracked up. "You really sat in the car for 20 minutes?"

"Hey, it was creepy! I felt like such a pervert! I was praying that no one noticed the Student of the Month stickers on my car or my 'I'm Proud of my Cub Scouts' license plate frame!"

He laughed.

"We have to return the movie tomorrow, so we'll have to watch it tonight, ok Birthday Boy?"

He chuckled nervously. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too."

That evening, the boys helped me make Carlisle's favorite dinner and a birthday cake. His parents came over to help him celebrate. As we ate, opened presents, and played a board game the boys had given Carlisle, we kept catching each others' eye, eager for our own little party to start. It was torture. The anticipation was killing us both. We hadn't felt this kind of passion for each other in years.

We were able to steal one private moment during the evening. The boys were entertaining their grandparents with the latest songs they'd learned on the piano so Carlisle followed me to the kitchen, under the guise of helping me clear away the cake plates. As soon as the kitchen door, which was usually left open, swung shut, he had me backed upagainst the pantry door, his fingers buried in my hair, and his lips attached to my mouth. I nearly dropped the plates with the speed of his attack.

"Make them leave!" he pleaded.

"Anxious for your present, Sweetheart?" I teased, palming his crotch.

"Mmmm… please!" Suddenly, he grabbed the dishes, yanked open the dishwasher door, and bent over to load the plates and forks, trying to hide the tent in his pants… _Thank goodness for the squeaky door_. His mother entered with more dishes, shooting me a condescending look.

"Car, you shouldn't have to do housework. Especially on your birthday, Darling."

"It's ok, Mother. My beautiful wife has spoiled me with her cooking all day long." He stood, wrapped his arms around me, and gave me kiss on the cheek. "She deserves a little help."

He was so sweet to defend me, but his old-school mother was unimpressed, raising her eyebrows with a "hmph!" and looking away to avoid witnessing our embrace before handing me her dirty dishes.

"Father and I need to get going soon."

"I'll see you out, Mother. I'm so glad you could come…" He put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the kitchen, glancing back at me with an apologetic look and a wink.

After finally waving goodbye to his folks and tucking the boys in, we hurried to our bedroom, locked the door behind us, and got ready for bed, nervous and excited about our movie date.

"What else is in here, Es?" Carlisle dug through the gift bag while he waited for me.

I heard a gasp as I approached the bed, all washed and brushed and wearing a slinky little nightie I'd found at Sears. "Bondage?!"

"I just thought it might be fun to try—nothing severe—just trust me, ok? I think you'll like being able to let go of all that control that keeps you wound up so tightly all the time."

He looked worried.

I laughed. "The guy at the store wanted to sell me a flogger, but I said no way."

"A what?"

"A flogger."

"Like a medieval torture device?"

"Yes, but this one was silk—kind of like this," I flipped the tassel tie back on the bedroom curtains, "so it wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Hmmm," he grunted. He looked a little freaked out.

"Sweetheart, I didn't buy it. I don't want to hit you."

"You just want to tie me up and… what?"

"And make you feel good." I ran my finger up his bare arm, running it back and forth over the curve of his bicep, enjoying the feel of velvety-soft skin over hard muscle, "Run a silk scarf over your body, or a feather, or my tongue… If you're afraid, you can tie me up instead. Or we don't have to use it at all. It's ok."

"Hmmm…"

"I got something for myself, too," I admitted, bashfully, looking up under my eyelashes at him.

"What, a studded collar?"

I rolled my eyes at him, opened the drawer of my nightstand, and brought out the hot pink vibrator." His eyes grew wide. "Have you used that?"

"No, I wanted to wait for you."

He smiled.

"So, what would you like to play with tonight, Birthday Boy?"

"The movie has to go back tomorrow, right?"

"Mmm hmm."

"We'd better do that, then," and he slid the tape into the VCR.

We sat cross legged on the bed, hand in hand, curious about what we were in for, and began to watch. It certainly wasn't a movie version of the book I'd read with sex scenes added in. No, it was pretty much JUST the sex scenes. I doubt the director had even read the book, because the two minutes of horribly acted dialog were filled with inaccuracies. _That's lame!_

We watched the first scene, shocked and horrified but unable to tear our eyes away. There was a woman with not one but two men. They kept slapping her butt and she appeared to be really out of it—I'm sure she was stoned. It was kind of pathetic, but I'm sure that not even a porn star would want to be coherent for the ways those men violated her. It was disturbing. They had sex in every fathomable combination, and one that I had never imagined.

"What are they doing?" I wondered.

"I think they're both in her."

They'd already shown one man in front and one in back. That was disturbing enough, but this looked different.

"Huh?" I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure it out.

"Es, they both have their dicks in the same hole."

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand. _Oh my god, is that even possible? Apparently so. Ick._ We were both very uncomfortable and were about to turn the movie off when thankfully they finished—both men ejaculating on her face and chest—and it switched to a different scene with two people, doing normal sexual things. And this one was really, really sexy.

"I like this girl, Es." Carlisle panted into my ear. "She looks like you." I gave him a questioning look. "Not her face, her body. She's petite and small like you." His hand caressed my inner thigh, "That's what I like. The other girl was too big and fake looking. This one reminds me of you."

I was thrilled. _He LIKES my small chest?_ I'd never been more thankful than that moment that he'd never been with another woman. _He really is all mine. Hallelujah!_

I shifted position and slid my tiny lace panties off. He followed suit, lifting his hips and pulling off his underwear. Carlisle sat propped up against the headboard and I moved to sit in front of him between his legs, gripping his thighs as he kissed me everywhere he could reach—my neck, my shoulders, my head—and ran his hands all over me. He lifted my nightgown over my head and kneaded my breasts, rolling my erect nipples between his fingers until I gasped. We were both incredibly turned on as we watched the couple on the screen. They used their hands, their tongues, their lips, his cock in so many ways…

"Oh Baby, we should try it that way sometime." Carlisle groaned. Then he froze and gasped. "Sorry… I'm sorry!"

I grabbed his hands and turned to face him. "It's ok. You can call me that now."

"Really?" He was surprised and thrilled. We'd had a pregnancy scare when I was in college and I had told him to _never_ say "baby" during sex again, because it made me think we were asking for one. I guess I was a little superstitious… scared stupid, I suppose!

"Carlisle, we've had our babies. And you've had your vasectomy, so I think we're safe now."

"Oh BABY!" he practically yelled. He pushed me down on the bed and was inside me within seconds. It was so exciting to have sex while we watched and listened to the couple on the screen. Carlisle was insatiable, and I'd never been more aroused. He just kept going and going and going.

He pinned me to the bed in missionary, pounded into me doggie style, then rolled over with me on top of him riding him until I came. From there, I flung my leg over him and swiveled around to try that new position from the movie as we continued to watch. It was raw, hot, wet, and absolutely wonderful.

The video moved on to a third scene and the new couple wasn't as exciting to us—bleach blonde, big implants, tattoos—but at that point we weren't really watching. We were so into each other, drenched in sweat and other fluids as we thrust into each other again and again, hands and mouths attacking each other.

"Oh Baby… Baby… Baby… Baby!" Carlisle cried out as he finally came. He really likes calling me that. I should have let him sooner.

I grabbed tissues as he grabbed the remote and clicked off the movie. I turned to face him again, and we clung to each other, silent and shaking, until we caught our breath. We looked at each other, smiled, and slowly began to laugh.

"So, I take it you liked the movie?" I asked.

"Oh Baby, thank you. So much."

"Happy birthday, Sweetheart."

Our relationship was improving, both emotionally and physically, but it took a lot of conscious effort from both of us. Not everything went smoothly. We had plenty of setbacks. As hard as we were trying, Carlisle and I were sometimes on a completely different page from one another.

One Saturday afternoon three weeks after Carlisle's birthday, (i.e., three weeks since we'd last done anything physical beyond spooning,) we found ourselves alone in the house. Emmett was at football practice. Edward was at a friend's. Time alone with Carlisle was a rare treat, and I wanted to take full advantage of it.

I was eager to practice my new blow job skills again, so I asked Carlisle to join me in the bedroom, but he turned me down. He had a different plan for that afternoon—a haircut! Yes, a HAIRCUT! I was angry and I was hurt, and I was horny! Opportunities like this didn't come along very often. The kids were ALWAYS around.

After he left for his STUPID HAIRCUT, I took the time alone to use my new vibrator and give MYSELF an orgasm—_forget sharing that first time with him!_

The vibrator was big and noisy and fast. I was a little scared to use it, so I tried just the clitoral stimulator portion first. It vibrated so quickly that I fantasized it was the lightning-fast fingers of the sexy vampire in a book I'd been reading. Wow! I came fast and intense, even on the slowest setting. I wanted more, so I put some lube on the part that looked like a big, hot pink penis. I slid it between my legs, and pressed the buttons to turn it on for dual stimulation, and screamed out loud.

"Ohhhhhhhhh…" The sensation overwhelmed me. I came again, actually more than once. It felt incredible, but as good as it made me feel, in a way it was unfulfilling…disappointing. Physically nice but emotionally empty. It just wasn't the same without my real man attached.

I craved his weight, his warmth, his kiss, his touch, his words. But I didn't have them. I didn't have him. He had to get a haircut because that's what he _planned_ to do this afternoon. It was frustrating. No, it was infuriating. Carlisle was so dang structured. Everything planned and scheduled. No spontaneity.

* * *

**A/N**

**Let's just pretend that a book about vampires with fast fingers was around in 1990. Esme thanks you for this bit of artistic license.**

**Can you find my homage to a classic Twific in this chapter? It was my first.**

**There actually are XXX movies based on the 4 Twilight tomes. Should I admit that I know that? All in the name of _research_! The whole video description (including disgusting double entry) in this chapter is straight from the XXX Eclipse DVD. They really could have done a lot—ahem, tent scene?—but I was sorely disappointed.**

**Besotted kindly suggests what to admit and what to leave out of TFB. Thanks!**

**And thanks to you for reading. I appreciate your reviews. It seems that many of you can relate to my two lonely stay-at-home-moms!**

**JEN**


	7. Chapter 6—Bella: The Spa Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/23/12. ****Re-posted 12/18/13.**

* * *

**Chapter 6—Bella: The Spa Day**

Sunday, April 29, 2012

"…I learned the hard way, Bella that you can't rely on spontaneity to keep things alive. That works when you're a new couple—dating or freshly married—but when jobs and kids and other commitments start to fill up your days, you may forget to turn to each other during your nights.

As boring and unromantic as it sounds, I learned that my husband needed specific, planned times to spend time with me. I don't think he wrote it into his calendar at work, but in his structured little mind he needed to know that certain times were set aside just for us.

Once I figured that out, things got much better and my feelings were hurt much less often."

_Wait… did she say 'during your nights?' Is she talking about scheduling times for sex? OMG, I think she is!_

All the way to the spa, Esme had been sharing little relationship gems like this one. She kindly did not get too detailed, and tried not to use Carlisle's name. I think she was trying to prevent me from thinking about WHO the characters in her stories really were. Bless her!

"… It's important to put your marriage first. It's the very best gift you can ever give your children. A strong marriage is the foundation that all the other aspects of your life grow from: jobs, kids, home… If your relationship with your husband isn't stable, then anything else you do will be weak and faulty as well.

Put him first. Think of him first when you make decisions. Look at him and talk to him first after you've been apart. Serve him first at dinner. He should be your first priority, and you should be his, even when you're busy and overwhelmed. Especially then."

"But shouldn't your kids be top priority?"

"I used to think so, and I almost lost my husband for it.

The kids wouldn't be here without the two of you. They will feel more secure and more loved if you show them that their parents love and respect each other and are an unbreakable team that will protect and nurture the family together. And it's good to set an example for what a healthy, loving, affectionate marriage looks like. They're certainly not seeing that on TV these days." I shook my head in chagrin.

"Remember the bridal shower that Rosalie threw for you?" Rosalie is my very snarky sister-in-law, married to Edward's older brother, Emmett.

"The 50s housewife? That was hilarious. It was so much fun."

"Remember the rules that Rose found in an old Home Ec textbook. 'How to be a good wife,' or something like that?"

I nodded.

"Well, I know we joked about them at your party, how old fashioned they were. And don't get me wrong, I'm an independent woman with my own business. I taught my boys to cook and clean and support their wives whether they choose to work inside or outside the home…"

"Yeah, I think Edward forgot."

"Remind him!

Anyway, in my experience, a lot of those silly old rules are actually pretty valid. I remember biting my tongue at your party because it was all in good fun to mock them, but a majority of the list was ways to make him feel loved and secure.

Of course, it shouldn't be as one-sided as the list suggested. He needs to treat his wife the _exact_ same way… And the rule about not questioning him if he stays out late or even all night long, that one was complete crap!"

"Amen!" We high fived before getting out of the car at the spa. This was going to be a great day.

As uncomfortable as it was to discuss marriage and sex with Edward's mom, once I got over that fact and started talking to Esme as a friend and confidant, I realized that her advice was really very valuable, and spot on to the issues I was having with Edward in most cases.

We continued talking throughout our day at the spa. It was really kind of wonderful, and my respect and admiration for Esme grew even more. I came to truly believe that as sticky sweet as my in-laws are now, at one time they certainly had struggled to stay together, and I was so grateful that she was willing to share her experience and advice for overcoming the obstacles.

She taught me that it's normal and expected for the euphoric "in love" feelings to wane after a few years of marriage, that you need to replace them with a more mature, emotional love that can endure life's hills and valleys, that it's how you spend all the mundane time in between the happy snapshots in your photo albums that really define your marriage and make it strong.

"My father-in-law, of all people, said something once that really stuck with me," she said. "In a sermon he was giving about love and fidelity, he read some excerpts from the love letters between him and his wife years before. Their written words were all about missing each other and wanting to be together constantly. Then he said, 'Now that I've had her around for a few decades that's not the most important thing anymore. Now I want to see vacuum lines on the carpet when I get home.'"

"What?!"

"He said that there was no greater feeling to him than to come home in the evening to the smell of dinner cooking and vacuum lines on the rug. He loved feeling taken care of.

And then he said that he was always sure to tell her how much he appreciated all that she did for him, because that's what made her feel loved in return—recognition. He said that right in front of the whole congregation.

That taught me that you just have to figure out what it is that makes your spouse feel special and loved and do that for him. My husband loves being taken care of, just like his father did. So, I make an effort to do things he'll appreciate—keeping the house clean, picking up his clothes at the dry cleaners, bringing him a drink when he's thirsty…"

_OH!_ The image of her, glowing, in her little silk robe late at night with a glass of water for Carlisle popped into my head. I wished she hadn't said that!

"Did you know that I actually HATE cooking?" she admitted.

"What? You're kidding! But you're so good at it."

"I'd rather have Chinese take-out any day. I signed up for cooking classes and forced myself to learn just because it means so much to him."

"Wow. I'm shocked!"

"His other thing is that he needs to be touched."

I cringed. "Oh, I don't know if I want to hear about that!"

She held her newly manicured hand up and shook it as if to erase the thought. "Oh, no no no—I didn't mean like that! I mean the little affectionate touches that you've noticed: hugs and kisses, hand holding, an arm around his waist, fingers through his hair or a hand on his cheek. If I'm touching him, he feels secure and loved, so I give him that whenever he's within reach. It took some practice, but now it's second nature, and it's really nice."

"That's so sweet, Esme."

"You know, Bella, ever since Edward was a little boy, he's loved back rubs. I remember him at three or four years old, crying and hiccuping through his sobs, 'I need pats on the back.'"

"Really?" I thought for a moment and my jaw dropped, "Oh my god, I can't believe I forgot about that."

"Hmm?"

I shook my head and changed the subject. "So, what's yours, Esme?"

"Me? I respond more to words—praise, encouragement, compliments, being recognized in front of others…"

"I've noticed Carlisle doing that. He always has something nice to say about you."

She nodded, "It didn't come automatically, though. I had to TELL him that that's what I needed—repeatedly. He got it eventually.

I remember when I was just getting started in the design business. We were at a dinner party for a bunch of his colleagues and their spouses—not a huge fan of some of those people—and then Carlisle stood up to give a toast. He stood in front of all of his colleagues and their wives, looked right at me as he raised his wine glass, and gave the most beautiful and heartfelt toast, honoring me and announcing my new venture. He said that he hoped all his friends could have the same feeling of beauty and love and comfort in their homes that I had created in his own."

"Oh, Esme…"

Even the nail technicians who were working on our pedicures were impressed. They spoke in Vietnamese for a moment, and then one of them said "He's a good man. You lucky lady!"

"Yes, I'm very lucky. But then, of course, he had to make a doctor joke laden with innuendo about how I may decorate Seattle's bedrooms, but ours had the BIGGEST… bed of all, and that's where I'd be sleeping every night, or something egotistical like that. I don't remember exactly…"

I rolled my eyes and nodded in understanding. Sounds just like Edward and his buddies. "Those doctors and their big… egos!" We giggled. _Yep, definitely opening up to the mother-in-law now_.

"Despite his dirty joke, Bella, it was so thoughtful. He believed in me and he put his reputation on the line by recommending me to all of his colleagues. That just meant so much to me. And I did get several new clients from that dinner party.

It was actually a housewarming party for my very first clients when their remodel was finished, so that helped, but, gosh, now that I think about it… yes, all but one of those couples hired me at some point through the years.

The one couple that didn't were already in divorce negotiations when we went to the party. And they had had their whole house done by my business partner before I started working with her, so… Hmmm. How about that?"

_Oh my god_, I thought, PR brain kicking into action, _a 100% response rate to any marketing initiative is unheard of. I knew her business was pretty successful, but this woman is a force to be reckoned with_. "Wow! That's amazing. And it's so sweet that Carlisle did that for you." She nodded and smiled.

"It's hard to believe that a year before that we were barely talking. We'd go a week without so much as a kiss goodbye in the morning; for days our only conversation was about whether he'd be home for dinner or not. There was no happiness, no joy. Many days, our "No Dumping" rule was the only thing to keep us together."

She told me how on their honeymoon, they'd walked past a vacant lot near their condo every day that had a "No Dumping" sign posted on the fence. Carlisle had joked that it was meant for the newlyweds—that neither of them was allowed to dump the other, no matter what.

"We had no idea back then how that silly little sign would become so powerful to us. You have to choose to stay sometimes, Bella. Choose to love your husband every day, even when it's hard.

I think you know about that, Bella, anyone who's been married awhile does. Some days when you're feeling neglected or extra stressed about the kids, you just have to decide to stick it out; have faith that tomorrow or next week or next year will be better. And if it doesn't get better, you figure out a way to MAKE it happen."

"Well, you sure made it happen. I guess there's hope for the rest of us, huh?"

"Yes, Bella, there's always hope, but you can't just wish for it, you have to work for it, and it's not always romantic. Sometimes it's very forced."

"The other thing that makes me feel loved is when my husband takes time to be with me and give me his undivided attention.

You know how a surgeon's schedule is. It's not easy for them to find time for everything, or everyone. And with Carlisle, anything he does has to be in his book, or at least planned out in his mind—the complete opposite of how my creative brain operates!

It made me so happy one time when he brought his Franklin Planner home and penciled in time for a date night every other week for the entire year. It may sound really dorky and unromantic to others, but that was the very best thing he could have done to show that he cared about me.

Once you figure out what makes each other feel loved and work that into your daily interactions, everyone feels better."

Our day at the spa was winding down. We were buffed and polished, waxed and massaged, and very relaxed. I didn't want our great day and our fantastic conversation to end.

We called to check in with the guys on our way to my favorite Italian place. Over dinner and a couple glasses of wine, Esme opened up even more, telling me a lot about their past.

I knew they'd been together since they were really young, but I hadn't realized that she was still in high school when they started dating. I gleaned that they'd both been virgins and it was pretty scandalous to their families when she returned from a year of studying abroad in college and they decided to live together.

"We had to spend the extra money for appearances to rent a two bedroom apartment and tell them that we each had our own room. I'm sure they knew the truth, and they certainly didn't approve, but we just wanted to be together after spending 47 weeks on different continents. And this was before Skype or cell phones or even email. We wrote letters every day, which took over a week to arrive, and called each other once a month for about 20 minutes. That was it."

I chuckled. "You were counting the weeks, huh?" She smiled and nodded. "That must have been so hard. Somebody asked me to do a long distance thing once, but there was no way… Wow. How did you two survive? You weren't even married yet."

She shook her head no. "Commitment." She shrugged. "First you have to find the right person, the one you're willing to wait for, which yours must not have been. And then you commit to him, you don't give up." She smiled wistfully.

"There were times when I was abroad or later when we were married and times were tough… oh, or during his residency," her eyebrows rose and she shook her head, "that I would get so lonely. I wondered what it would have been like to have dated around a bit, to have taken some of those lovely Frenchmen up on their offers to show me around Paris. I wondered if I was missing out on something. But not many couples are each other's one and only. That's a pretty rare thing anymore, and we've protected it, guarded it carefully."

She thought for a minute as if she wasn't sure that she wanted to share the next thing with me. "There was one area that I know suffered from our mutual lack of experience," my jaw dropped—_was this a sex talk?_—"and it took a very painful experience for me to find a way to fix it."

I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to continue.

"It was the same time that we were having trouble, about 15 years married or so, and I was already feeling insecure. We went to my 20th high school reunion where he looked so good in his black Armani and lots of women were gawking at him.

We'd talked to so many of my classmates that night who'd gotten divorced, and that scared me. And then I overheard some women talking about my husband in the ladies room. They knew who I was and they were drunk and obviously attracted to him, and they said some things—very hurtful things—that made me realize that maybe my husband needed more than I knew how to give him… physically."

"WHAT? Who would say something like that about a friend's husband?"

"Well, we weren't exactly friends. I think the term is 'frenemies' nowadays. Anyway, they were drunk, and had no idea that I was eavesdropping."

"But still, you just don't…"

"Some women do, Bella. Look how those so-called friends of yours were talking about Edward at Riley's party."

"Yeah, I guess so. And Carlisle, too, which made it even more offensive." I shook my head in disgust. "But Esme, how could you even take that seriously? It doesn't seem to bother you now. What you two have is so special, how could…"

She shook her head. "It was a really bad time for us back then. It was all about work and the kids. Nothing left for each other. We barely spoke, hardly touched at all, and only…" she huffed a breath out of her nose, "…mated occasionally. Usually when _he_ needed it."

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry." This was getting uncomfortable.

"The boys were both in school, I hadn't started working again yet. I was lonely! I started retreating into my own little fantasy world of romance novels just to try to feel… something, anything. It was really unhealthy. Like an addiction."

She lifted her eyes to me and smiled. "I'm so sorry, I don't need to go there… Suffice it to say, the reunion and those comments were a real wake up call, the turning point in our relationship.

Thankfully, we were staying at the hotel, without the kids and we were able to talk freely without being interrupted every five seconds. So, we talked that night, a lot. We decided that we both wanted to fall back in love and to never let it get that bad again.

And then we went home and we got to work, fixing things. It took months, but we made some big changes. We put each other first, spent more time together, identified and then started doing those little things that mattered to each other. I learned to cook. He learned that the world wouldn't end if he turned off his beeper during dinner.

But still, the physical part wasn't really happening. It just wasn't, for whatever reason, and I decided that I wanted to fix that part of us, too. I tried lots of things. I read how-to books, I stopped wearing sweats and holey t-shirts to bed…"

"Yeah, I've seen your little skimpy robe." She blushed.

"I event went to a porn shop and bought a few things."

"No way! I could never do that. I think I'd just order stuff on the internet if I…"

"Well, that wasn't an option then." She told a hilarious story of sitting in her car, scared to death to go into the creepy shop. "After all that, it actually backfired; I think I scared him off! The night I brought the presents home was great, but after that—dry spell. He even turned me down one extremely rare afternoon when the kids were gone—to go get a haircut!"

"What?"

She just shrugged and nodded. "Structured. It wasn't his PLAN for the day. Nothing seemed to work until I gave him the Fantasy Basket."

She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a long drink, obviously nervous.

"The what?"

"The Fantasy Basket. Remember what I said about scheduling? Carlisle always hated Tuesdays. That's when he had meetings at work all day. So I thought of a way to make every Tuesday better."

_Uh oh_.

"I gave him a basket for Christmas that was filled with fantasies for us to play out, one per week for the whole upcoming year. He would draw a slip of paper every Tuesday morning so we could both think about it all day long.

That's the key Bella, we started thinking about each other romantically again. Remember when you were dating and you just wanted to be with the other person all the time? We recreated that sense of urgency to be together so that it built up in our minds all day and we were excited to see each other again.

Then, on Tuesday nights, I started coming to bed early instead of staying up late to work on whatever jobs didn't get done that day. I put Carlisle first every Tuesday night, and it built from there. I know it sounds boring and regimented to plan for sex on a weekly schedule, but trying to be spontaneous just wasn't working for us and this helped.

The Fantasy Basket forced us to make the time for each other, to think about each other during the day, which was great foreplay, and the fantasies themselves helped us to freshen things up and learn new things about one another," she said with a dreamy smile.

"I'm not sure I really want to know, but what kinds of things were in the basket, Esme?"

"Morbid curiosity, huh?"

I nodded in response, cringing. "Were they like new positions and stuff? Or role playing?"

"Positions, yes. Role playing, yes… we had to play doctor, of course! What else? Ummm… Bubble bath and a massage, kissing with flavored lip gloss, a dirty movie, and lots of other things.

It was awfully hard to think of 52 different things, so I introduced a little of everything that I was willing to try. Some included props, some included costumes… I think I came up with around 40 fantasies to start with, and I invited him to write down some of his own and add them to the basket. I remember that he put in strip poker, knowing I couldn't play at all...

Half the time we laughed at how ridiculous and uncomfortable we felt, but that was ok because at least it brought us together. And the other half…" She smiled and turned bright red.

"Oh my god." I covered my eyes with my hand and couldn't look at Esme for a few seconds. How would I ever face Carlisle? "No, no, no…"

"Bella, it's ok. Listen, it's late!" she said. "We really should be getting home. I try not to stay out too late. Somebody has trouble sleeping without me. We can talk more at Alice's party on Tuesday, ok? Oh, don't tell Edward about this just yet. The surprise is part of the fun, so wait until you get your basket put together."

"Oh, you think I'm going to do this?"

"Of course you are!"

_Holy crow!_

…

"Mama!" Riley ran to me when we returned home.

"You're up late, kiddo." As I bent down to hug my pajama-clad toddler, Esme lifted an eyebrow at me and nodded toward Edward. I took the hint and stood to hug and kiss Edward. _Marriage first, Riley next!_ I looked into Edward's eyes and said, "I missed you, Clark, how was the water?" as Riley clamped his little arms around my knees and chattered endlessly.

"Mama! Gampa and I go'ed to the park. We pway ball. Drove my new twuck all full of sand. Gampa pushed me on the swing! I go'ed so high, mama!"

"We're on the boat for five hours and all he remembers is the 20 minutes that Dad took him to the park while I tied her down?" He shook his head in resignation.

"Really Ri?" I asked, leaning down to pick him up after consoling Edward with another quick kiss and a squeeze. That elicited a curious look first toward me and then toward his mother.

Esme shrugged slightly and with a knowing smile suggested, "You sailors must be awfully tired. I'd better help Grandpa get to bed. Night night!" She gave Riley a kiss on the cheek and then took Carlisle's hand and led him upstairs.

"Good night, big guy," Carlisle said as he tousled Riley's hair and kissed him on the forehead, before hurrying up the stairs with his wife.

Esme POV

We hurried up the stairs, discreetly racing to the guest room. As soon as the door latched closed, I found myself enveloped in Carlisle's strong arms, his lips kneading mine with an intensity you'd expect from a man who had not seen his love for days or weeks, not just the nine hours we had been apart.

"I missed you, Baby," he whispered, nibbling the spot behind my ear that drove me wild, and unbuttoning my silk blouse with his nimble fingers.

"Oh, Carlisle," I sighed as I lifted his polo shirt to remove it, missing his warm touch during the brief seconds his arms were lifted overhead.

"I want to see what you had done at the spa today, my love," he murmured as he pushed my slacks over my hips, letting them drop to the floor. He lay me down on the bed and, kneeling on the floor, took my feet in his hands, massaging and kissing them.

"What color are your sweet toes?... Mmm, French, of course, mon petit cherie." He bit my toes and then the arch of my foot, sending a burst of electricity all through my body. Placing my feet on his shoulders, he ran his hands up my legs. "Mmm… so smooth," he whispered as he placed kisses up the insides of my legs.

"Did you get waxed _all_ the way up?" He nudged my lace underwear down for a peek, kissing from my navel down to where my pubic hair used to begin. "Mmmmm… that's so sexy." He backed up just long enough to remove my panties from my legs. "You're so good to me. Those Brazilians must hurt. Let me kiss it better…"

I smiled at him and put my feet flat on the bed, bending my knees and spreading my legs apart to give him a clear view.

"Oh, I love seeing you bare." He placed warm, moist kisses inside my thighs and all along the crease where my legs met my body, carefully avoiding the places I wanted him most, driving me crazy.

His hands caressed all the places where my hair had been removed, followed by tender kisses, but still neglecting the prize in the center. He spread my lips with his fingers, took a deep breath of my womanly scent, and blew warm breath up and down, up and down.

He looked up into my eyes. I licked my lips, blew a kiss toward him, closed my eyes, and dropped my head back in anticipation. He didn't disappoint, finally placing gentle kisses all along my parted labia. He dragged his flat tongue from bottom to top, placed his lips around me and began to suckle my clitoris as his hands grasped my thighs. He alternated sucking and flicking me with the tip of his tongue, causing me to pant and moan, my heart to race.

I gripped his hair in my fists, pulling his face closer as he continued his heavenly assault. One more flat lick and quick flick of my clit with his tongue sent me flying.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I sighed, struggling to keep quiet. "Oh Oh Oh Oh." I sobbed. "Ohhhhhhh Carlisle….." I whispered as I writhed and squeezed in ecstasy. Hands still in his hair, I guided him up onto the bed for a passionate kiss.

I moved my hands to unbutton his pants. "We need to get rid of these. I need you inside me immediately." I unzipped his fly and together we shoved his pants and boxers down his hips. He kicked them off and I grabbed his rear to pull him close, line him up, and guide him inside me.

He filled me with one thrust, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips to pull him in even deeper. He backed almost all the way out, thrust quickly back in, and repeated the motion again and again and again, moaning into my shoulder. After awhile, he shifted position and sped up, staying deep this time so that he hit my g-spot continuously. Oh, this man knew just the right angle to make me feel so good.

I grabbed my knees and lifted my legs wide, feet in the air. "Ohhhhhhhh…. yes, yes, yes, right there. Ohhhhhhh Carlisle… Oh god… mmmmm." I wanted to scream in ecstasy as he grunted through his own orgasm, but instead I held him tight and clenched my teeth to try to keep our lovemaking private.

As I lay spent in his arms, Carlisle asked, "How was your little talk with Bella today, Miss Meddling Mother-in-law?"

"Hey," I replied with a pout. "She ASKED for my advice!" He laughed. "We had a lovely time. I really feel like we got to know each other better. It's like we're on more equal ground now that she's a mother and beyond the exhaustion of his infant stage. We felt more like friends than parent and child, if that makes sense. That made it a lot easier to talk about our marriages.

You should have seen the incredulous look on her face when I told her that we'd had tough times, too. She really didn't believe me, Carlisle. She scoffed even!" He laughed.

"Oh, if only they knew, huh?…" I nodded.

"How was your day, Sweetie?"

"The boys and I had fun. It was a beautiful day. Riley is such a cute little bugger. Edward is just great with him. I see what you mean about him and Bella, though. He wouldn't say much when I asked about her. It's so hard to see them struggling, but I didn't want to press." He shook his head regretfully.

"Oh, Ezzy, I remember those tough times with you. How I loved you so much but I felt so tired and stressed all the time that I treated you terribly. How I was torn between loving the kids so much and wishing we'd never had them, and then feeling guilty for even thinking that. How I put so much pressure on myself to succeed at work so I could provide for you guys. I just couldn't figure out how to fit everything into each day."

"We got through it, Sweetie. They will too." He nodded and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "I hope so."

I stood to go get cleaned up. "Need a drink?"

He nodded and smiled. "Thanks. You're so good to me."

Bella POV

I cuddled our baby and Edward held us both against his chest as we sang Riley his bedtime lullaby together. "Night-night baby boy! I love you."

"I love you, too, Mini-me. Thanks for a fun Daddy-day!" He leaned over and put a kiss on top of Riley's head. Then he kissed me on the temple.

"Babe, I don't know how you do it day after day. You…" Edward suddenly stiffened and muttered, "Jeez, Sunday night, just like back home." He shook his head in disgust at the muffled sounds of lovemaking that we could hear faintly through the wall that the guest room shared with Riley's.

"Oh, god, that's my mom. I have to get out of here." Edward gave Riley a quick kiss and took off, not waiting for me to lay him down in his crib and tuck him in.

"I thought it was Tuesdays?" I said as I entered our bedroom, closing the door behind me.

"Ugh—it was both. Every Sunday and Tuesday night they locked up in their room as soon as we went upstairs to bed. Oh my god! Emmett and I figured it out around high school, I was probably still in middle school, I don't know, whenever I started staying up late to do homework. Em thought it was hilarious, but I was just grossed out.

Sundays were relatively tame, but Tuesdays were worse—louder, crazier. I don't even want to think about what kind of freaky stuff they were doing… Still are doing, apparently." He shuddered.

I blushed, knowing that Tuesdays were their fantasy basket nights.

"Maybe," I whispered, suggestively, "Sundays were for loving and Tuesdays were for fucking?" His jaw dropped open. "Or maybe Sundays were hers to take the lead and Tuesdays were his… or something? Sounds fun whatever it was! Maybe WE could…"

"Jesus Christ, Bella! I can't believe you said that. How could you think about my parents that way? Growing up with those lovebirds was bad enough. Hearing them in the act is disgusting. I don't want to think about the details. And I don't want my wife thinking about them, either. How could you… ugh! How did you know about Tuesdays, anyway?" He ran his hands through his hair, like he always does when he's nervous or frustrated.

"Your mom has been sharing her tips for marital bliss all day."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh, don't be so uptight, Edward. I think it's wonderful that they're so in love after what, 40 years or so? I think it's great.

It sure beats what I grew up with. I don't think Charlie dated at all, and you think it was bad hearing your parents making love? You have no idea how many nameless guys I heard Renee screwing over the years. Apartment walls are thin. She certainly didn't _love_ any of them until she met Phil.

I think your parents set a much better example than either of mine. I hope we can be like them someday."

"You're freaking me out here, Bella. How could you talk about my parents like that?"

"I'm not talking about your parents, per se, I'm talking about us. I'm just trying to learn from their example. They have got the best relationship I've ever seen, Edward, and I want that with you. I want…"

"Oh, no, no, no, Bella. Please don't talk to my mom about our love life. Trust me, nothing good can come from that."

_What?_ He was obsessing about the parents-having-sex thing and not listening to anything else I said. "She wasn't going into specifics, Edward. It just came up in conversation about how much things change once you have kids.

She said the most important thing you can do to keep your family strong is to keep your marriage strong, and that for them, it took some extreme measures, such as SCHEDULING Tuesday nights for intimacy.

I thought it was a good idea and that maybe we could try to schedule some happy times of our own? Unless, of course, you're actually satisfied with 20 minutes, once a month?"

The look on his face was pained… tortured… severely hurt. "Please stop, Bella. I can't do this on top of everything else right now. _Please_ don't."

"Please don't what, Edward? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't understand this problem. All I know is that I love you and I miss you. I came home feeling very relaxed and kind of frisky." I bit my bottom lip and his mouth tensed into a straight line. "I wanted to drag you upstairs and jump into bed, just like they did." I tilted my head toward the guest room. "But instead, I got _this_," I threw my hands up and scowled.

"Please, Bella. I just… I can't do this right now. I have a huge, huge surgery tomorrow morning—early—and I need to get some sleep. Ri totally wore me out today while you were out relaxing and…"

"Yeah, I know. There's always work. There's always a big surgery or a patient emergency or a key point in the research or _something_ more important than spending time with _me_. You make it pretty obvious that I'm not a high priority for you. God, Edward, how much rejection do you think I can take?"

_Oh oh_. I could see in my husband's eyes that he was about to explode. Something I'd said had just set him off and I braced myself for the verbal assault that I could see was coming.

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Bella? Yes, I work. I work a lot.

I work so that you can stay home to play with our kid. I work so that you can live in a decent place where he'll go to a good school. I work so you can have a safe car to drive him around to your playgroups and whatever other shit you do all day while I am—oh yeah—_working_ my ass off.

If that's not placing you as a high priority, then I don't know what is. I'm sorry if my working is _inconvenient_ for you, or if it doesn't always sync up with your libido but you know if I don't take it seriously, PEOPLE COULD FUCKING DIE.

What am I supposed to say then? 'Oops, I killed your husband because I was up late screwing my wife last night. Yeah, she needs to feel like we're keeping up with my parents, so… sorry!'

Jesus, Bella, do you even have any idea? One mistake on my part, one big malpractice suit, and we could lose everything, EVERYTHING.

God, the sleep deprivation alone these past two years has been bad enough. I…" He pushed his hands through his hair frantically and let out a big shuddering breath. "Listen, I know I'm being a jerk, but I just can't handle any more right now, Bella. I just… can't. Tomorrow's too… fuck!"

He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the stress and then looked up at me, mournfully. "I'm sorry, ok?" He held his head in his hands and practically pulled his hair out.

"Fine," I snipped, seething. "Go. Get some sleep." I directed him over to our bedroom, following him in. "Good night. Thank you for doing my job today and yours the rest of the time." _Asshole_!

I yanked the covers down on my side of the bed and grabbed my pillow. "I'll leave you alone. Don't worry about my libido bothering you because my buzz is sufficiently killed."

He stood next to his side of the bed and gaped at me as I left our room, stormed down the hall with my head held high, and gently clicked the door of one of the spare bedrooms shut behind me.

I collapsed onto the lonely bed that sat in the middle of the otherwise empty and spartan room, trying to hold back both tears and angry, cursing rants. I buried my face in my pillow, anticipating the need to hide the noise from our guests, and he knocked quietly on the other side of the door.

"Bella? Bella, I'm sorry…" I ignored him, knowing that if I said a word to him now, many more words would come spilling out. Words that I'd regret, especially in front of his parents. "Bella?... Damn it!"

I heard him shuffle back down the hall and close our bedroom door behind him. That set off the tears—what seemed like hours of them—as I repeated Esme's words over and over in my mind: _No dumping. Choose to stay. There's always hope… _

Esme POV

_Oh dear,_ I thought as I paused at the top of the stairs, a glass of water in each hand. I tracked the sound of muffled sobs to one of the spare bedrooms.

Carlisle thanked me, and, noticing the look on my face asked "What's wrong, Baby?"

"She's upset again—really upset. We raised that boy better than this, Carlisle."

* * *

**A/N**

**50s Housewife tips will be posted in The Fantasy Basket Outtakes Chapter 2—Bella's Wedding Shower. They're hilarious—go check them out when the story's done! **

**Besotted is more than I ever expected or imagined a Beta would be. She makes this story so much better, and she's a fantastic friend. Thanks!**

**And thanks to YOU for reading. Please let me know what you thought of Esme's advice. What's the best (or worst) advice you've ever gotten? **

**JEN**


	8. Chapter 7—Esme: Christmas

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/30/12. ****Re-posted 12/28/13.**

* * *

**Chapter 7—Esme: Christmas**

December 1990

"He is so hard to shop for, you know? He buys everything he wants for himself."

"I know what you mean. Eleazar came home a couple of weeks ago with a 100 disc CD player. I said, 'it's a month before Christmas! Why didn't you just put that on your list?'"

"These guys are impossible. I hate just buying him clothes. What am I, HIS mother, too?"

Carmen laughed. We were fighting the holiday crowds at the mall two weeks before Christmas with all five of our kids in tow. School was out for winter break (it sounds so weird to call Christmas Vacation 'Winter Break'—that darn Political Correctness movement!), and we had Santa pictures to take and a few last gifts to buy—Carlisle's being the most difficult.

"Mama, look! It's just like what Buddy got for his dad!" Edward looked so cute all dressed up for Santa in his red plaid shirt and argyle vest. I noticed what he was pointing to and gulped.

Why did the people at Robinson's have to put the lingerie section directly across from the Christmas ornaments? My six year old was pointing out a sheer, red, babydoll negligee, complete with white marabou trim along the top and a black velvet belt with a rhinestone buckle under the red velvet cups. It was, indeed, just like the lingerie that Will Farrell's childlike character bought "for someone special," his grouchy father played by James Cahn, in the movie _Elf_. That movie had been full of stupid, childish humor—most of it was pretty tame, but of course Edward remembered the one questionable scene.

Time to mom up…

"It is, Edward, good observation. Do you think that was a good present for him to buy his dad?"

It got worse. "No, he probably should have given it to the girl elf instead."

Carmen snorted as she fought to keep her laughter in. Thank goodness the other kids hadn't noticed the exchange.

"Maybe so, Eddie Bear. They are GIRLS pajamas, huh? Let's go pick out your ornament for this year, ok?" _Deflect! Deflect!_

While his attention was successfully diverted, mine was piqued. As the boys scoured the Christmas section for an ornament, the wheels in my mind were turning. The creativity was flowing. I was formulating the perfect gift for my husband.

"What are you smirking at, Es?" Carmen's eyes followed mine across the aisle to the naughty Santa nightie and her eyebrows raised up. "Figure out something for Carlisle, Mrs. Claus?"

"Maybe so," I giggled.

"Why don't I take the boys to pick out a gift for you while you stay here and do a little shopping? Can we meet up in about forty five minutes? Gianna's due to wake up then and I'll need to feed her."

"That would be great, Carmen. They've got a really nice mother's lounge here upstairs by the kids clothing section. I'll meet you there and take the other kids for a shift so you can nurse her in peace." I'd used that room many times when the boys were babies. I'd breastfed each of them for a year and a half, and had never supplemented with formula. My girls may be small, but they did the job they were intended for! An added benefit was that ever since, my breasts had been a lot less ticklish, but a lot more sensitive and responsive to Carlisle's touch.

"Thanks, Es."

"Hey, Cullen Boys—I need to talk to you!"

"Mom, look what I picked out!" Emmett proudly held up the biggest, gaudiest ornament I think I'd ever seen.

"Wow, that's really colorful! Are you sure that one's your favorite?" He nodded enthusiastically.

"Ok. Miss Carmen is going to take you guys to pick out a present for me and I'm going to shop on my own for a bit. She's in charge while I'm gone and remember that if you can't see her, she can't see you. Be good. Have fun."

"Ok. Hey mom, I know what I'm gonna pick out for you! Do you like…"

"Stop—don't tell me, Edward! Not even a hint! I like to be surprised on Christmas morning." He had a tendency to spill the beans, not realizing that his "hints" were way too obvious.

"Thanks Carmen, I'll see you upstairs." She nodded and herded the kids toward the elevator.

Once they were out of sight, I crossed the walkway and found my size in the Santa nightie. I hadn't bought much lingerie before, other than my plain old underwear and bras and a couple of nightgowns I rarely wore—I usually slept in sweats and a t-shirt.

On our honeymoon, I'd worn a sexy little teddy that I got as a wedding shower gift, but it was really uncomfortable—scratchy lace and boning—and it was hard to get out of, which kind of defeated the purpose, so I just figured that lingerie wasn't our thing.

I wish I hadn't waited 15 years to try again. The ones I looked at here were fancy and frilly without being scratchy. They were sexy and fun, and I was really excited about the gift I was going to give Carlisle. I actually took a whole armload of colors and styles into the dressing room, and ended up with four sets, including the Santa one.

Taking a cue from the dirty movie we had watched, I decided I needed some sexy shoes to go with my new underwear. I usually chase the kids around in flats or sneakers, but the movie girls wore super high heels and left them on when everything else came off.

I checked the sale rack and found a pair of black patent leather strappy shoes with 4 inch heels that had little rhinestone buckles that matched the Santa negligee—perfect! I also found a pair of heels in zebra print and another that had metal studs on them and looked kind of tough.

I couldn't believe I was actually doing something like this. I hope Carlisle doesn't think I'm crazy. On my way upstairs to get the kids, I saw a leather choker with some flat metal studs to match the shoes. Had to get that, too, for when we tried out our bondage set. Maybe it would give Carlisle a laugh after his studded collar comment. _Ha!_

Later, at Carmen's house, her baby and toddler were down for naps and the three older kids were playing upstairs. She set a cup of coffee down in front of me and said, "Do tell, girlfriend. What are you up to with your lingerie shopping? Those bags are a lot bigger than you need for your tiny little Mrs. Claus nightie!"

We were both pretty private people, and never really talked about our sex lives or anything like that, but she did know about the steps I'd been taking to improve my relationship with Carlisle. I took a deep breath. "Well, you know what we've been doing to try to help our marriage—the date nights, the talking, trying to be more affectionate, and all that?" She nodded. "Well, we don't have much of a physical aspect at all. Maybe once a month, if that."

Carmen nodded in understanding. "I hear ya! It's hard with the kids, huh?"

"Yeah. So, anyway, now they're a little older and I'm not getting up all hours of the night with them anymore…"

"I'm so jealous!"

I laughed apologetically. "Anyway, with all this stuff I've been reading, I realize that we really need to work on our physical relationship, too. But we're both kind of shy and neither of us had any experience before each other, so I tried to spice things up by buying some toys and things…"

The story of my porn shop adventure brought us both a great fit of laughter.

"But even though we have the stuff, we're not using it. We're either too tired, or one of us isn't in the mood, or somebody's sick, or I have my period, or whatever." I snorted.

"Maybe he's just being anal retentive with his stupid calendar. If I'm not in his book, it's not going to happen, you know? I told you about the time he turned me down to go get a haircut, right?" She nodded and laughed at the ridiculousness of that situation. "Boy, did I give him a piece of my mind after that! He's been better, but it just still isn't happening as naturally as it should. So I thought maybe I'd try to _schedule_ one night a week where we have an appointment to play… in bed. Does that sound too regimented and weird?"

"You know, I've never seen Carlisle without his planner and his beeper. I think scheduling time for sex may be just what you guys need. Do you think he'll go for it?"

"Well, that's what popped into my head at the store today. If I make it his Christmas present to draw an experience or a fantasy out of a hat one day a week for the whole new year, maybe he won't see it as me demanding more time in his planner. It's a gift, right, not an obligation?"

"I love it!" She clapped her hands. "You are so clever. I never knew you were such a dirty girl, Esme!"

I blushed and covered my eyes with my hands. "I can't believe I'm doing this." We spent the rest of the afternoon thinking up different fantasies and writing the naughty little notes I'd use to introduce them. It was kind of fun to see this new side of my best friend.

...

The following weekend was the annual Christmas party for Carlisle's medical group. It was nice to get to know the people that my husband spent so much of his time with, and to compare notes with the other "hospital widows," most of them, anyway. Some doctors and their wives were so full of themselves—completely materialistic and all for show, talking about their fancy cars and summer houses and plastic surgery.

There were many high-flying egos among this group, that's for sure. But there were several kind, compassionate people, too. I mostly hung around with my friend Kate. She and her husband Garrett are such good people. They've got kids a little older than ours and are very level headed.

Garrett has his pilot's license and he volunteers his time and his Cessna for Doctors Without Borders, traveling to underdeveloped countries to provide free medical care to people in need. He was telling us about his latest trip to South America. In college, Carlisle had done a research project on indigenous medical practices of the Amazon, he was very interested to hear what things were like there now.

While we were talking, Carlisle was paged. Everyone heard the beep, and the room grew silent. When people saw that it was Carlisle checking the offending little black box clipped to his belt, there was a collective sigh of relief among the spouses. Several of them shot me sympathetic looks. The other doctors were happy that it wasn't them who had to go in to work, and many of them razzed Carlisle for his bad luck. "Glad it's you, not me, Sucker!"

"Sorry, Love," he declared, returning from the phone. "It's an emergency with a patient I operated on yesterday."

"Oh, Carlisle, they're just about to start the gift exchange."

"Why don't you stay, Esme? We'll drive you home," Kate offered.

"That sounds great, Ezzy, then you won't have to miss it. Just pick out the best present for me, ok? Thanks Garrett. Kate. Merry Christmas everyone, it was great to see you." He waved goodbye to the group as I walked him to the door.

"I'll miss you. Hurry home to me."

"I will, Baby. I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. This guy's been touch and go ever since we opened him up. I'd hate for his family to lose him at Christmas."

What a difference from his attitude toward me just a few months ago! "You're so compassionate, Sweetheart. I love that about you, even if it means I have to share." I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Well, you get most of me! I'm kind of glad to get out of here, anyway. You met the new guy, right? Dr. Hunter? Well, his wife Victoria keeps hitting on me, for crying out loud. Right in front of James and everyone."

"The redhead who's been boasting about her boob job all night? Yeah, I noticed that. I'll keep them here and make sure she doesn't track you down."

"Mmmm…My protector…" He kissed me longingly a few times. "Gotta go, Baby."

"Love you…"

I drew two numbers from the dish that was going around. Each person, in order of their number, could choose an unopened gift or steal one that had already been opened from someone else. Once a gift was stolen three times, it was frozen and couldn't be stolen again. Everyone had been instructed to bring a holiday themed gift. That was pretty broad, and I wondered what we'd see.

I had brought a beautiful embroidered holiday throw blanket and a set of scented candles in glass angel-themed holders. Technically, Carlisle brought one of those, but I picked them both out. There were a lot of really nice gifts, and some silly gag gifts, like the reindeer boxer shorts with the light-up nose. One of the guys obviously bought those.

Since I was playing for two and kept getting stolen from, I opened a lot of presents. Toward the end of the game, I was stolen from yet again.

"Ok, this is Carlisle's turn." There was only one unopened gift left—the candleholders I had brought myself—so that was out. And most of the opened gifts I was interested in were frozen by this point.

"Take the jock strap!" The guys were teasing me to take the most risqué gift of the night home to Carlisle. It was a bottle of tequila with a tiny pair of men's Santa underwear. I secretly wanted it, since it matched the Mrs. Claus lingerie I had bought, but I was far too embarrassed to choose it in front of Carlisle's colleagues.

"Come on, Esme, Cullen needs the jock strap!"

"I'll give you five bucks to take the Santa jock strap!"

"I'll give you ten! But we need a photo to prove he's worn it!"

My face was so hot. I could barely contain my laughter. I thought I'd play along. "Well, I don't know if I should get it for him, guys," I said, picking it up and examining the pouch that would hold the owner's manly parts. "It might not be big enough." Howls and hoots of applause erupted throughout the room. "Tell you what, if somebody can add another five dollars and make it an even twenty, I'll take it!"

"Sold! Don't forget—photo proof on the fridge in the doctor's lounge by Monday!"

"Will do!" I took my bottle of tequila, my Santa Speedo, and my twenty bucks, _thankyouverymuch_, and took a seat. This set off a chain reaction of stealing, as the previous owner of the Santa pants stole something else, and so on. Eventually, Victoria was empty handed, and eyeing my prize.

"Let me be your Santa, Baby, get me those trunks!" James called from across the room. She passed him a sly smile and a quirked eyebrow.

"I'll give you another twenty bucks if we get a picture of Hunter in the jock strap!"

"Forty bucks? You got it!" Victoria took his twenty and stuck it in her bra, then leaned over to pick up the bottle, money, and underwear from me, whispering, "I'd gladly strip Carlisle of his underwear, any day." She winked at me and slithered across the room to James, twirling the briefs on her index finger, singing, "Santa Baby, hurry down the chimney tonight…"

Kate and Garrett were the only other people to hear Victoria's comment. We looked at each other, astonished. That woman was unbelievable! I'd had enough. I just took the last unopened gift—the one I had brought myself—to end the game. Meanwhile, James was slipping the underwear on over his slacks. Someone handed him a wad of tissue paper from one of the gift bags.

"Here, bro, you don't quite fill it up like Carlisle would." James stuffed the paper in front, resulting in a ridiculously large bulge, and made all sorts of lewd gestures, grabbing his crotch, thrusting his pelvis, and pretending to hump his wife while his coworkers snapped photos and cheered him on.

"I think it's time to go." I turned to Kate and Garrett. He was already off gathering our coats.

…

Christmas morning was a flurry of activity. After playing the dutiful family and spending most of Christmas Eve at my in-laws' church services, then staying up late to help Santa unload his gifts for the boys, stuff the stockings, nibble the cookies, and prep the breakfast casserole, we dropped into bed, exhausted. We had a rule that the boys couldn't wake us up to go open presents until at least 7:00 am, but our sleep was interrupted by Edward knocking on our door at six and again at six thirty, asking if it was time yet. _Argh_!

"We'll come and get you when it's time, Buddy! Stay in bed until then, ok?" The time finally came, and it was wonderful to see how joyful the boys were as they dumped out their stockings, tore through gift wrap, shouted with delight when they opened something they'd really wanted, and stuffed themselves with chocolates and candy canes. They settled in to playing with their new toys, happy to stay in their pajamas all day. Carlisle wanted a shower, so I followed him upstairs, closing the door behind us. He looked at me, curiously.

I wrapped my arms around him and breathed into his ear, "I've got something else for you."

"What is it?" He removed his plaid flannel pajama top as I retrieved his gift from my closet.

"Something I didn't want to give you in front of the kids." I handed him a small gift with a note attached to the front. He opened a pair of forest green silk boxer shorts and read:

_12/25/90_

_Dear Sweetheart,_

_Merry Christmas! I know you've been a busy and stressed out Santa lately, so I've arranged for Mrs. Claus to join you tonight to help relieve some of your tension. She'll have a gift that you'll enjoy all year long, starting tonight. Meet upstairs at 10:00 pm. I know it will be hard to wait until then. In the meantime, you can wear these Sexy Santa shorts today and every time you feel the silky softness rubbing up against you, you can think about how good it will feel to kiss Mrs. Claus tonight, to taste her milk and cookies, and to unload your big Christmas package. Merry Christmas! _

Jeez, Carmen and I had put every innuendo imaginable into that note. I hope we didn't overdo it!

He looked quite shocked and a little perplexed. "So, what's tonight at 10:00? What does it mean, 'all year long'?"

I shrugged. "Meet me here at 10:00 and you'll find out." I rubbed the silk shorts up and down his chest. "I promise it's something good, Santa." I kissed him and retreated to my sink to wash my face and brush my teeth and hair while he finished undressing and climbed in the shower. I'm so glad I selected the clear glass doors. I admired him from my mirror as the water and soap ran down his succulent body, and I couldn't wait for 10:00 pm!

We spent Christmas day relaxing and having fun with the kids. We built Legos, played with new toys, and watched the _Home Alone_ video that Emmett received. (All afternoon Edward kept putting his hands on his face and gasping, just like Macauley Culkin.) Carlisle played football with the boys while I looked through my new cookbook. I'm excited about my gift certificate to a cooking school. I've been trying to learn new recipes and improve my cooking skills, so cooking classes will be great. We also called close friends and started writing thank you notes.

"You can't play with it until you've thanked the person who gave it to you, Emmett." He groaned in protest. "Hey, if you're not thankful for it, we can just send it back to them."

"All right, all right…"

After a quick dinner, we played a board game and tucked the boys into bed. I spent an hour straightening the house back up, and it was finally time. I was really nervous about what Carlisle would think. As I changed into my Santa nightie and high heels, I worried. We had both always been so conservative. Would he think I was being too forward? Would he be horrified at the fantasies and at me for thinking of them? Would he like seeing me in the sexy Mrs. Claus outfit? There was only one way to find out. I emerged from my walk in closet with a basket full of small wrapped gifts and a velvet bag. Carlisle's eyes just about popped out of his head. OK, he likes the outfit!

I handed him the second note. "This is all for you, Santa."

_12/25/90 - 10 pm_

_Merry Christmas! Did you ever get underwear for Christmas as a kid? Back then, it was pretty boring, but now I hope you've found it to be the most exciting gift ever. This is your Tuesday underwear and it comes with a Fantasy Basket. I know you hate Tuesdays, so the Fantasy Basket will give you something nice to think about all day every Tuesday. Each Tuesday morning, you can reach in and select a fantasy that will come true on Tuesday night. Maybe Tuesday will become your favorite day of the week!_

_(PS—It was hard to think of 52 fantasies, so I want you to add some of your own to the basket. I can't wait to help you make YOUR dreams come true.)_

"Seriously?"

"Mmm hmm. Are Tuesdays good for you, because we could do it any day you like, as long as we do it."

"I think Tuesdays are great. What kind of stuff is in there?"

"Everything you could ever dream of."

"This is nice… Like your senior picture." He ran his fingers along the marabou trim, from one shoulder, down and across my chest, and up to the other shoulder. "Is strip poker in there? Maybe we could play sometime and you could take it off."

"Strip Poker's not in there now, but you can add it. I don't know how to play, though."

"Even better." He smirked. He leaned in to kiss my neck and dragged his thumbs along the black "belt" that ran just under my breasts. "I like the shoes. They match this" He touched the rhinestone buckle between my breasts and then moved up to cup me with his hands.

"Mmm… I saw the girls in the movie we watched wearing sexy shoes while they did it, and thought you may want to try."

"Oh yeah?" He was nuzzling and nipping at my neck and shoulders and I could tell that he liked the feel of my feathers on his cheeks. "Are you gonna keep your sexy shoes on tonight?"

"Anything you want. It's your present, you know, and I want it to be just what you've wished for. Did you like wearing your new shorts today?" I climbed over my husband to straddle him and leaned down, trying to show my little bit of cleavage. I rubbed my chest feathers on his face.

"It felt so good. I couldn't stop thinking about you, Baby, and wondering what you'd dreamed up for me tonight." His hands slid under the sheer portion of my top, to rub against the bare skin of my sides, my stomach, my back.

"Did you see _my_ underwear?" I backed up a little to sit high on my knees, still straddling his thighs, and lifted my top to show the tiny g-string panties that were the same sheer red material as the top.

Carlisle sucked in a sharp breath and moved his hands to my hips. "Those are tiny, and so sexy." He ran his hands along the elastic bands that circled my hips, and down the one they met in the back. "Mmm… you've never worn butt floss before. Is it comfortable?" he laughed.

I scrunched my nose. "Not really, but I could get used to it. It feels kind of sexy, rubbing against all my tingly places." Back in front, his hands followed the edges of the tiny sheer triangle until he felt the point where the fabric ended and the elastic began, directly between my legs.

"Oh… I'll rub your tingly places, Mrs. Claus." He shoved the tiny bit of fabric to the side and circled my opening with his finger, gathering moisture that he moved up to my clit. His face was buried in the sheer, silky fabric covering my belly, and I grasped his shoulders to maintain my balance as my wide-spread thighs began to shake with the pleasure that coursed through me. He moved his other hand from my butt to slide a finger inside me. We could hear the slippery slurping sound as he pumped it in and out.

"Oh, Ez, you're so wet." He added a second finger and curled them up to tickle the spot inside me that was extra sensitive. It took no time at all for the quick, precise movement of his long fingers to bring me to climax. As the hot, white light overtook me, my knees finally gave out. I sat down on his lap and was startled by the silky softness of his boxers. I ran my still-throbbing center up and down his silk-covered erection, which brought me to orgasm again.

"Ooooooooohhh Carlisle," I groaned. "Yes…. yes… YES!" I rolled off of him to take off the g-string, and I think I might have clipped him in the shin with my heel. _Oops!_

"Can you take the shoes off, Baby? We can try that again another time." I kissed him and sat up so I could lean over and unfasten the buckles. It took way too long. I was impatient to get back to him, but my fingers fumbled over the tiny little buckles.

"Argh!" I finally kicked the shoes off and raced back to Carlisle, yanking his silk shorts down and straddling him again. He sat up to reach my mouth with his, our tongues battling for dominance while his hands grasped my velvet-covered breasts and I rubbed myself along his rock-hard shaft. I kissed along his jaw to his ear, and then down his neck, my hands kneading his toned chest… his abs… his hips.

"Mmmmmm," he moaned as he felt the soft marabou trim that covered my chest and shoulders inch down his body, trailed by my massaging hands and wet kisses. The soft feathers reached his cock, and he groaned at the sensation. "Ohhhh Esme, Oh god!" I stayed there for a few minutes, caressing his cock up and down with my feather-covered cleavage, smiling as I watched him pop up through the marabou with each pass I made. I'd never anticipated that that part of my costume would be such a turn on for both of us.

Eventually, I returned my lips to his hard abs, and continued my kissing trail down his body. After following his happy trail, I licked his full length, then took the mushroom tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it and teasing his slit. I sucked a couple of times, and then plunged my mouth down around him as far as I could go.

I didn't want to make him come, I just wanted to work him into a frenzy, so after a few more passes with my mouth, I crept up his body, feathery softness tickling him all the way up. After a few passionate kisses, I sat up, hands on his chest, and lined him up with my center. I plunged down onto him, riding him hard and fast. He slid my shoulder straps off, and pushed the velvet cups down to release my breasts so that he could tickle and tease my nipples and watch me bounce above him.

I started to tire and slowed down, leaning back so that he hit me at a different angle inside, a heavenly angle. I stopped riding him up and down altogether and swiveled my hips in slow circles, round and round, enjoying the feeling of him filling me up and nudging my g-spot with each revolution. He took my hands, lacing our fingers together. I pressed my palms hard against his, happy for the leverage.

"Mmmmmm…" The intensity built. My breathing and heartbeat raced. And my entire body shook as I was overcome with bliss once again. As I moaned and panted through my recovery, I continued to swivel and gaze into Carlisle's eyes, sending him into ecstasy as well.

His climax set me off for the fourth time tonight. This one was small, but—_Oh my god, FOUR?_ I slowed my swiveling hips to a stop, but stayed connected with my husband, caressing his chest and face with my hands. He ran his hands along my abdomen, feeling me through the soft, sheer fabric of my Mrs. Claus outfit. It was drenched in sweat, and the marabou trim was matted, reminding me of a wet dog.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart." I leaned down to give him a quick kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Best. Present. Ever!"

We laughed and finally separated, heading for the bathroom to clean up and put on some dry pajamas.

This fantasy basket thing may just work.

* * *

**A/N**

**I know the movie Elf came out a lot later than 1990, but the department store scenario really happened when my son was 6, and it was too perfect not to use in the story. I hope you'll forgive a little artistic license. Esme appreciates it. **

**And now you know even more about the Fantasy Basket! What kinds of fantasies would you put in one?**

**Besotted... Thanks! (with a space).**

**Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think. Please leave a review. They make my day!**

**JEN **


	9. Chapter 8—Bella: The Passionista Party

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 6/6/12. ****Re-posted 1/1/14.**

******Please Review!**

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**Chapter 8—Bella: The Passionista Party**

July 13-15, 2012

Edward was gone when I awoke the morning after our argument. Carlisle had gone with him to observe the procedure Edward was scheduled to do. Esme and I took Riley to the park on the beach in Del Mar and then browsed through the stores full of artsy home accessories and furniture at the South Cedros Street Design District. She's always on the lookout for unique items to decorate her clients' homes with, and it was impressive to see her in action, making contacts and negotiating with artists and store managers.

Esme is helping me decorate, so we picked up a few items for our house, too. It's great to have a successful interior designer in the family. I have no idea how to make our place look worthy of one of San Diego's up and coming heart surgeons. My mother Renee and I moved around a lot after she left my dad when I was little, following her ever-changing interests, jobs, and boyfriends. We never lived in one place long enough to decorate. My dad Charlie is the complete opposite of Renee, never moving, never changing a thing. The only change Charlie had made to his house in 20 years—the same little house in Phoenix he bought when he and Mom got married—was to replace my crib with a twin bed when I moved in with him in high school. It's more shabby than chic, definitely! I've learned that around here, especially in Edward's escalating social strata, you're expected to keep up appearances. It's intimidating, and makes the difference in our upbringing glaringly obvious.

We picked up Alice at University Town Center, the mall where she works, and headed across the street to Regents Pizza. It's a great little place near the condo that Edward and I lived in when we were first married. They have the best Chicago style pizza. Carlisle met us there for lunch. When he arrived, he rushed to Esme, proclaiming "He did it, Baby, he did it!" as he lifted her by the waist and spun around. Then he kissed her and gazed deeply into her eyes, hands holding both sides of her face. They just kept staring and the emotions on their faces kept changing. It's like they were having a conversation with no words. Alice and I watched them in disbelief, and then looked at each other, snickering and shifting uncomfortably, a little embarrassed to be intruding on their private moment. It seemed kind of odd to hear my very conservative and distinguished father-in-law call Esme 'Baby,' but as I watched them out of the corner of my eye, I began to think how wonderful it was that he still felt that way about her, even after a whole lifetime together. It gave me hope. After nearly a minute, another quick kiss finally broke their love trance and they scooted forward in the line to order lunch, big smiles on their faces.

As we ate our inch-high slices and salads, Carlisle was practically buzzing with excitement as he told us about the big, important surgery Edward had performed that morning. Apparently, it was the first complete procedure (outside of clinical trials) using a new technique and new technology that the cardiac surgery industry has been eagerly anticipating for years. It's the thing that got him recognized for the 30 Under 30 award, so I knew a little about what it was, though Edward hadn't told me that today's surgery was so significant. His success today was pretty high-profile for the whole team, which included Carlisle and a few others. It was an innovative new procedure—safer and more effective than the status quo—which he could publish articles about in medical journals and become known as an expert in. That would attract more patients and lots of money to the hospital, and could get Edward a huge promotion.

Carlisle further explained to Alice that this procedure was the culmination of an idea that he and a couple of partners had been researching and testing for almost 20 years, and which Edward had helped him work on during every summer vacation since he was fourteen. "People around the hospital used to joke and call him Doogie Houser," Carlisle mused, but that hands-on, professional level research and work during high school and college had enabled Edward to fast-track through undergrad, med school, his residency, and his surgical fellowship, and to achieve a level of success unprecedented in someone so young. Carlisle and Esme had timed their trip specifically so Carlisle could assist with the surgery and attend a conference where Edward would be speaking about it. They were so proud. I felt like a fool. I had no idea about any of this.

"How could he leave me in the dark about everything, Alice?" I vented in the bathroom. "I'm his wife, I live with him, and other than the fact that he was stressed out and acting like a total jerk last night, I had no idea that _this_ surgery was happening today. And the stuff with his dad? Oh my god, Alice! I knew his dad was his mentor and he worked for him when he was a kid, but…"

"Just calm down, Bella. Put a smile on your face, play along, and talk to him about it tonight when you're alone. You and I can call him an asshole, but you can't exactly say that to his parents, especially not right now, so just defer it until later, when you can rip him a new one privately." I love Alice. She tells it like it is.

After lunch, we headed home to put Riley down for his nap and make my house pretty with our new purchases. Hours later, when I heard the garage door rumble open, I rushed upstairs to change Riley's diaper, hiding from the 'couple time' I'm sure Esme wanted me to spend with Edward on the couch. What I had to say to him would take a lot more than 10 minutes, and would be best without an audience.

Edward arrived home excited and happy, to cheers and applause from his parents. I laughed when Esme put her fingers in her mouth and gave a loud whistle. Carlisle stood to give a toast at dinner:

"Here's to Edward, the second best heart surgeon I know of, on his momentous achievement. I've been waiting over twenty years for this day, and I'm so happy that my own son has taken the lead in bringing it to fruition. Not only did you save the first of thousands of lives with this procedure today, but you took a big step toward making a better life for yourself and your family. Enjoy your success, son. You deserve it. But don't let it consume your life. As you continue on this path, Edward, be sure to make time for the things that are most important, so they'll be there always to share it with you." Carlisle's eyes met mine with a wide smile. "I'm proud of you, son."

"Cheers!"

I hadn't seen Edward so happy and animated in a long time. As we got ready for bed in our huge master bathroom, (_who needs a bathroom this big? I swear it's bigger than the bedroom I had growing up!)_ I could tell that he wanted to celebrate. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of my walk in closet as I changed into the tank top and shorts I sleep in, shirtless and leering at me with a sexy smirk, hands in the pockets of his low slung drawstring sleep pants. I brushed past him through the door without acknowledgement, pulling my hair into a ponytail and leaning over the sink to wash my face. He moved to lean a hip against my sink and handed me a towel to dry my dripping face, brushing a stray tendril of my hair behind my ear, and dragging his fingers down the back of my neck. He turned to stand directly behind me, hands resting on the vanity to either side of me and watching in the mirror as I stood and applied toner, serum, eye cream, and moisturizer.

"Hey, Beautiful." He nuzzled my neck, placing light kisses along the curve of my neck and shoulder.

"Here, use this." I held out the eye cream and placed a squirt on his ring finger as he rolled his eyes at me through the mirror. "Don't give me that look, it'll keep those eyes of yours looking pretty." He complied, patting the lotion under his eyes with a huff, feeling emasculated as I brushed my teeth. He massaged my shoulders and kissed the top of my head as I brushed and spit out the toothpaste. As I leaned over to open the cabinet under the sink, he pulled my hips back into his, pressing his erection against my rear.

"Mmmm…" he groaned.

"Last night would have been better." I stood, holding up a tampon in one hand, a maxi pad in the other and walked toward the toilet room. "Today I got my period." His face fell and he walked over to his own sink.

He brushed his teeth while I did my business, and approached me as I crossed the room to wash my hands. "Well, we can do other stuff…" He circled his arms around my waist as I dried my hands, pulled me closer and started to kiss me with his minty clean mouth.

"No, Edward!" I glared at him as his expression changed from shock to understanding. He took a step away from me, hands outstretched in front of him, pleading as I leaned against my sink, arms crossed in front of me, frowning.

"Oh, Babe, is this about last night? Listen, I'm sorry I was such a jerk. I was so nervous about this procedure today, and I took it out on you." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and paced in front of me. "I didn't mean it. I never should have said those things." He pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked into my eyes. "Forgive me? Please, Bella?" He put his hands on my hips and kissed me with each phrase. "Can't we kiss and make up? Please? Hmm?"

I pushed him away from me, seething. "I can't believe that you didn't tell me about today." I stepped forward, poking him in the chest. "This was something important for you… for US…" I threw my hands up to my sides, fingers tense, "and I didn't know a damn thing about it." I ran my fingers over my hair, smoothing the wisps back toward the elastic they'd escaped from. "Your parents knew everything. They planned their trip around your surgery, for god's sake, and I knew NOTHING. I am your WIFE," pointing at myself, "and I knew NOTHING." I lifted my hands up in front of me, palms up, fingers splayed, my head cocked to one side.

Edward backed up and sat on the edge of the oversized spa tub _(stupid giant thing that we never use, but I have to clean)_, hands on his knees. "Bella, I've been talking to my dad about it for weeks… professionally… as a mentor. We're kind of partners on this, so of course he knew all about it. I guess he told my mom." Shrugging his shoulders.

"Exactly!" I paced. "He told his WIFE," I turned to face him, bending at the waist, my face inches from his, "about something that was important to him." I resumed pacing, arms flailing. "Do you know what a FOOL I felt like when Carlisle was bragging at lunch about how well you'd done and how this was going to do great things for your career?" I threw my arms up in the air in false adulation. "And how you'd get published and bring all this money to the hospital and yadda, yadda? Oooo!" I steamed, eyes slitted. "And then when he started telling Alice how this was the culmination of his life's work—his dream—that you'd been helping him with since you were a kid… Jeez, I had NO idea. Thank god Alice was there to play dumb and ask the questions that I should have known the answers to. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? How could you not share this with me?" I slapped my hands against his bare chest. "I can't believe… I just can't…" Tears filled my eyes, threatening to spill out.

"Oh, come on. You've known about that."

"No, not really." I shook my head, frowning. "I had some vague idea of something your dad was mentoring you on. Some "big, long term project," but nothing specific. It always sounded like hero worship to me. I didn't know it was anything real. Other than the little bit of information I dragged out of you for the 30 Under 30 benefit, I'm pretty much in the dark about anything you do." I turned to face him and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"That's bullshit."

My eyes narrowed. "Right. It's bullshit. Because I'm a mindreader or something, right?" I resumed my pacing, pulling the elastic from my hair and throwing it on the vanity so that I could press my fingers against the throbbing in my head. I'm just supposed to know everything there is to know about the amazing Edward Cullen, whether you tell me or not?" I turned toward him and threw my hands in the air. "Here's a newsflash, Edward. You never tell me ANYTHING anymore. You hardly talk to me at ALL." I leaned against my sink, massaging my headache.

"Yeah? Well, it's not for lack of trying." He stood up and started pacing himself. "I'm lucky to get HALF of your attention, much less a full conversation. Like last night on the couch: I was telling you about the surgery—how important it was and how stressed out it was making everybody—and you just jumped up and left when Riley came in, like I wasn't even talking. Like I wasn't there at all."

"He was hurt!"

"Dad had him. He was fine."

"Yeah, well your dad isn't usually here."

"That's right. Make excuses and then blame _me_ for everything." He shook his head and crossed the room to his walk in closet, reaching for some clean running clothes. "I have to go for a run. Clear my head."

"Of course," I muttered under my breath. "Run away, just like you always do."

He looked up from tying his shoe and glared at me. "Bella… Don't!" He looked down to tie the other one and said, without looking at me, "I was so happy tonight. It was one of the best days of my life. _The_ best of my career." He grabbed his Nano and looked up at me before clipping it on. "And all I wanted to do—all day—was come home and celebrate with you." He snorted and left the room. Left me conflicted.

I looked at myself in the mirror as my thoughts battled it out.

_I'm such a bitch._

_No, remember how you felt today at lunch? He's a dick for not telling you ANYTHING! _

_But maybe he's right. Maybe I just didn't listen enough. _

_Oh, Puh-lease. Stick up for yourself, would you?_

_But I feel awful for ruining his great day. He was in such a good mood until I…_

_Argh!_

I ran downstairs to take something for my headache. When I returned, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I grabbed the cleanser and started scrubbing the shower to try to take my mind off of it. I just needed something—anything—to distract me. It didn't work right away, so I cleaned my way through the whole master bathroom until my mind was numb. At least I didn't cry.

I was wiping his sink and rearranging the stuff he keeps on the vanity when he returned, breathing hard and glistening with sweat. Edward looked at me in the mirror for a moment before putting his hands on my shoulders and kissing me on the temple. He retreated without a word to his closet, peeling off his sweaty clothes and his running shoes. I put the cleaning supplies away on a high shelf in my closet while he took a quick shower, and we found ourselves in the same position as earlier: he sat on the edge of the tub and I stood before him. Edward sighed and pulled me to stand between his knees, arms around my waist, forehead resting on my chest. I removed my hands from my hips, running them through his hair and onto his shoulders while taking a deep breath before pushing away from him. I stood across the room facing away from him, arms crossed and the knuckles of one hand toying with my bottom lip.

He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath, ran his hands through his hair, and looked over at me. "I should've told you more… sooner." He stood, walked across the room, and lifted my hands to kiss them. "I always try to keep work issues at work, to leave the stress there instead of bringing it home to you and Riley, but I guess I… Well, obviously, I took it too far." He bent his head down to try to make eye contact, but I stared straight ahead at his chest, focused on the two little moles he has just under his right pec. Two traitorous tears spilled from my eyes. He lifted my chin with his fingers to look at him.

"This whole project is something you should have known more about, and I apologize for keeping it from you. It wasn't intentional. I honestly thought I had told you more than I did. I thought you knew." He caressed my cheek and left his hand on the side of my head, "I'm sorry." He lifted his other hand to my face, leaned in to kiss my forehead, and ran his fingers through my hair to brush it away from my face. He wiped my tears with his thumbs. Looking back into my eyes, I could see his forehead wrinkled in a look of remorse.

I sniffed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you and ruined your great day."

I looked down to break from his gaze as he leaned his back against the wall and moved his arms to my shoulders. "This isn't the only time, though, Edward. This isn't just about your project or this surgery. We used to be so close, but now I feel like I don't even know you anymore. I'm scared that I'm losing you." I darted my eyes up to his for just a moment, long enough to see the fear and anguish he held there.

He shook his head and cupped my face. "No! That can't happen. We can't let that happen. I need you too much." He bent down to kiss my forehead and started to pull me into a hug, which I thwarted by twisting out of his grasp.

"It already _is_ happening, Edward. Love doesn't die all at once, it just gradually wears away until there's nothing left. Can't you see that happening already? I don't want to turn into one of those women around here. Their lives are so void and lonely, and they just fill them up with shopping and gossip. Their husbands buy them stuff to make up for ignoring them all the time. That's not the life I want. I don't want you to work harder to buy a bigger house or more stuff. I just want more of _you_."

His knees bent and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, elbows resting on his bent knees. He picked at something on his thumb, keeping his eyes off me. "Is that why you've been talking to my mom?" he asked, quietly.

I nodded and sniffed.

"That makes me really, really uncomfortable." He took a deep, shuddering breath, nervous to tell me that.

"Why? Edward, they can tell that something's not right with us, even if we don't say anything. They're worried about us. About you. And she just wants to help."

He buried his face in his hands. "Yeah. Well, that didn't work out so well the last time."

"What?"

He shook his head, trying to block out the memory. "Ancient history."

"Oh." I answered, sheepishly. "Will you tell me about it?" He had never shared much about past relationships. Neither of us had.

He gave me a pained look. "Not tonight, ok? But sometime I will." I nodded. _Sure, we'll see if that ever happens_. He shook his head and muttered, "Jeez, Mom…"

I thought about losing Esme if Edward and I ever split up. Then I reminded myself of her no dumping rule and smiled. "I don't want to lose her as a mother-in-law, so you have to be nice to me. At least until this big stupid house is done." I joked through my tears, trying to lighten the mood since I'd made my point.

He looked up at me and chuckled. "So you'll put up with me as long as she's part of the package?"

"Yeah," I nodded with a watery smile. "She's pretty great."

"I think you're pretty great."

"Well why don't you tell me once in awhile, you big jerk?" I extended my hand to help pull him up to his feet and pretended to smack him in the chest. "You can take a break from saving the world, can't you, Superman?"

"I couldn't save it without you, Lois." He draped his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze as I flicked off the light and we crossed through the sitting area to the bedroom.

Suddenly serious, I turned toward him and implored, "Just put me first Edward, ok? Kiss me first when you get home, look into my eyes at least once a day, tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling. Ok? I need that. Every day."

"I will. I promise. I love you." He held both my hands in his and gazed deeply into my eyes.

I was the first to break eye contact, looking down and then quickly back up into his eyes. "I love you, too."

We lay down together, his head on my belly, an arm slung over my waist as I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck and shoulders until we drifted off to sleep.

Edward woke me the next morning before leaving for work. "Good morning." He kissed my forehead and ran his fingers through my hair, sitting on the side of the bed. When I opened my eyes, he looked into them deeply, "Hi."

"Hi." I rubbed my eyes, gritty with sleep, and my cheeks, tight with last night's salty tears and squinted into my husband's face, still adjusting to the morning light.

"I've got to get going. Are we ok?"

"Yeah," I croaked in my scratchy morning voice. "We will be." I reached up to stroke his cheek "Let's take your folks up on their offer to watch Ri this week so we can go talk somewhere, ok?"

"Anything." He leaned down to kiss me again and smiled softly. As he headed for the door, I called out, "Alice's party is tonight…"

"I know. I'll be home early so you can get there on time. I'm actually at a conference today with Dad. I'm presenting."

"Oh, that explains the tie. You look nice. Break a leg!"

"Thanks. I love you, Bell." And with a smile he was gone.

Esme and I took Riley to his weekly playgroup at the park. After the accolades from all the moms about his birthday died down, conversation turned to Alice's Passionista party. The ladies were abuzz,

"I can't wait to see everything in person. It's so hard to tell from a web site."

"My sister went to a Passionista party and said she learned a lot. The consultant was really helpful and answered lots of questions she never thought to ask. It's a great way to see everything, much less embarrassing than…"

"What kind of party is this, exactly?" I wondered. I thought "Fashionista" would be some sort of clothing line, or accessories, or jewelry or something.

"Didn't you click the link on the e-vite and check out their catalog, Bella?"

I shook my head. I had been so busy with all the birthday party stuff that I barely had a chance to check my email last week.

"Mama, swing!" As the ladies tittered nervously at my ignorance, I relieved Esme from Riley-duty, glad for the escape and further embarrassment. _What in the world_…

At home, I put Riley down for his nap and checked email as Esme hung some art on a wall and rearranged my bookshelves. I clicked the link from Alice's e-vite and was looking, shocked, at the Passionista (with a "P") web site, when Esme came up behind me. "The Rabbit is great. Get the waterproof one."

"Oh my gosh, Esme, did you know what this party tonight was going to be?"

"Of course. I've been to a few before. My neighbor hosts them all the time. It will be a great place to get some things for your Fantasy Basket. See, they have lingerie, costumes, props… everything you need. I've even heard that now they sell some Fantasy Baskets all made up with everything you need—Quick and simple!" Her eyes twinkled deviously.

"Esme, I don't know if I can do that. It's really not my style." And I really didn't feel up to it tonight, after our fight.

She looked at me thoughtfully. "You've been quiet. Is everything all right?" I shifted nervously and shrugged, not willing to share my troubles with Edward's mother.

She took my face in her hands. "Make the choice, Honey, even when you don't feel like he deserves know that neither of you is going anywhere, except out for a long dinner and a talk tomorrow night where you can start to work things out. And for now just push those negative thoughts right out of your head so you can relax and have fun tonight."

I took a deep breath. "He's mad at me for talking to you about stuff. He said you scared off an old girlfriend or something. He's going to freak out about this." I clicked on the page labeled "for him," and stared, trying to figure out what some of those things were used for.

"Really?" She pursed her lips. "Well, girl talk is girl talk. He doesn't need all the details. You can be vague when you tell him about tonight. Just share the parts that he'll like. And as for Jayne," she rolled her eyes, "she needed running off. She was bad news."

_Jane, huh?_ "Esme, it's not just him, it's me, too. I'm very private. I'm just not comfortable sharing… or even thinking about these kinds of things." I tilted my head toward the monitor and grimaced at the pictures of vibrators and… well, I had no idea what some of those items were. I'm sure my face was bright red. I minimized the window and was flashed with the huge wallpaper picture of Riley's face—quite a contrast!

Esme looked at me thoughtfully. "You haven't been friends with Alice for long, have you?"

"No," I replied, confused at the change of subject. "We just met last month. She helped me find an outfit for Edward's 30 Under 30 thing and we hit it off, like we'd been friends forever." I shut down the computer and we moved to the kitchen where I poured some milk in a sippy cup for Riley to drink after his nap.

"I think she's going to be good for you. She's such a doll, and has so much self-confidence. I think she'll help you really open up and embrace the wonderful woman that you are, Bella." Now I was definitely red. "Have you ever met my friend Siobhan?"

"She's the O'Leary from Cullen O'Leary Design, right?"

Esme nodded. "It's good to have a close friend who will push you past your comfort zone once in a while. She did that for me. Still does, sometimes!"

"Maybe. I've always been pretty quiet and Alice seems pretty blunt. It's kind of nice to have a shiny new BFF." We laughed. "I don't know about this party, though."

"Bella, it's going to be fun. Isn't there _something_ you've been curious about but were too shy to ask? Or too shy to _try_?"

My face heated up even more.

"That's what I thought. There's no need to be embarrassed. Just go with an open mind. I bet you'll learn something. Your husband will thank you for it."

"No… He's pretty conservative…"

"I know. Edward always was kind of quiet. He didn't have many girlfriends, but he is a man."

"I know, but he's never…"

"Trust me on this. If YOU initiate something new, something exciting, he will love it. He may never do it himself but if you do, I bet he'll play along."

"Why me?" _Why me, indeed. And why this conversation? Please kill me now before she goes into detail about the depraved things I should do to her son. Oh my god…_

"It doesn't make you bad, Bella, it makes you normal. It makes you a good wife who wants to please her husband and who wants to be pleased herself by keeping things fresh and exciting."

I swallowed and shifted nervously, closing the refrigerator and moving to the family room, where I sat on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest. _I'm ready to crawl into a hole and die now!_

"I know it's a difficult subject. It certainly was for me. But I found that the Fantasy Basket really helped introduce things that were hard for both of us to talk about. Not just physical things, but other topics that were difficult to approach, too. It was this, kind of, anonymous entity that took the rap for bringing up embarrassing subjects. Sometimes Carlisle's eyes would be as wide as saucers when he read one of the fantasies. And he told me once that he was afraid of what would be in there. I'd just say, 'but Sweetheart, it was so hard to come up with enough ideas for a whole year, I had to put a little of everything in.'" I nodded, wide-eyed. "Sometimes we'd burst out laughing at how ridiculous we felt." She smiled at a memory. "And we could always say 'no' if either of us was uncomfortable. Or we could compromise and meet halfway. But it was a great way to try some new things, be someone new for a little while. No matter how the fantasies led us to behave, whether it was playful or sweet or sensual or dark or dirty, it was always loving, and intimate, and together. It was something we shared that was very private and personal."

"So why are you telling me about it?"

"Because it's the best gift I ever gave him, or myself. It helped us so much, and we want to help you kids. And I'm NOT planning to share the details!"

"Thank god for that!" we laughed. Then I cringed at the reminder that she knew of our problems. "Carlisle knows about Edward and me?" I asked as I bit my lip.

"Honey, we tell each other everything. And even if we didn't, he sees it in Edward. It'll never get better if you don't start talking to each other, Bella. The Fantasy Basket can help you two, but that's only half of the equation."

I nodded in resignation, "Yeah, I guess." _Our talk last night sure wasn't fun_.

We heard Riley on the baby monitor, so I excused myself to go get him from his room. The guys arrived home as I descended the stairs with Ri on my hip, gulping from his sippy cup.

Esme greeted Carlisle with a kiss, "Hi Sweetheart, what a treat to have you boys home early! How was your conference? Learn anything new?"

Carlisle explained that the conference was mostly same-old, same-old. "But there was one hot-shot young cardiologist who presented on a breakthrough technique that just earned FDA approval. He included some data from a surgery performed only yesterday. Quite the up-and-comer. I'll have to keep my eye on him." He grinned with a punch to Edward's shoulder.

"Is that right?" Esme played along, "Sounds like he may give you a run for your money, Grandpa. You'd better stay on your toes or you may just be replaced as the hottest heart surgeon in America." Carlisle was a bit of a celebrity doctor. The networks loved to call on his expert opinion whenever someone notable had heart surgery. Esme reached up to kiss Edward's cheek and ruffle his already messy hair. He flashed me his sexy crooked smile over his mom's head and took my hand, leaning in for a kiss.

"You'd better watch your back also, number two. Sounds like someone's out to de-throne the Cullen boys," I warned.

"Smart Alec," he laughed with a swat to my ass. Esme quirked an eyebrow at me and turned away with a knowing smile.

"Well boys," she said, backing away from the table after a quick dinner, "we've got a party to get to. Think you two superstars can manage without us for a couple of hours? We may just bring something special home for you."

"Go, go!" Carlisle took her plate to clear it for her and rushed her toward the door with a kiss to the top of her head.

"What's that all about?" Edward asked

"I'll tell you later. Better yet, why don't you ask your dad?" I smirked.

As we pulled into Alice's condo complex, I sighed. "Two kid-free outings in one week? This is heaven. You guys can never leave, ok?"

Esme laughed. "Listen, Bella? Tonight let's just be friends and try to forget about how we're related, ok?"

"Hmm. Ok." _What's that all about?_

Alice's door was open, so we opened the screen and came right in. "Yoo hoo! Ali—let's get this party started!"

"Oh, hi!" We were greeted by a tall, faux-chested bleach-blonde who was pretty, but seemed to try too hard—typical for San Diego. "Alice ran to get changed. She's going to model one of our outfits tonight. I'm Lauren, with Passionista." She held her hand out to shake ours. "Have you ever been to one of our parties before?"

"Hi Lauren, I'm Bella and this is my mother-in-l… uh, my _friend,_ Esme. And no, I didn't even know what your company did until this morning."

"Well hi Bella, Esme. I'm so glad you could make it."

"Hi Lauren," Esme answered, "I've been to a few parties up in Seattle where I live. My neighbor, Shelly Cope, is a consultant. She has one of your company BMWs, so she must be doing well."

"You know Shelly Cope? Wow! I listen to her online trainings all the time. Please tell her hello, I'm a great admirer." Lauren was so excited. It's like Esme's neighbor was a celebrity or something. "Say, is her house as fabulous as they say it is?"

"I like to think so," Esme smirked.

"So Esme, I'm sure you've got several of our fun products. Bella, do you have any toys?"

"Well, I have a two year old, so we have toys everywhere." I hadn't really been paying attention, my eyes diverted to the disturbing display on Alice's coffee table, so I didn't get what she was really asking. Call me dense!

"Ha ha ha. I don't think you'd want your two year old playing with _these_ toys! I'm talking about toys for you and your husband," she pretended to whisper, hand raised to her mouth. "That's a gorgeous ring, by the way. Look at that rock!"

I felt my face turn bright red. "Um, thanks, and uuuuuh, no, we don't have any grown up toys, unless you count our Wii or our sailboat."

"Ha—I like you, Bella. We're going to have a blast tonight."

"Actually, Lauren," Esme interjected, "I've been recommending that Bella introduce a Fantasy Basket into their marriage. Things get so much harder once kids enter the picture, you know."

"Esme, please…"

"Shelly did a training about those when Passionista first introduced them. It's a great idea, especially as a gift."

"Well, the original one was a gift. I told her about the one I made for my husband for Christmas about twenty years ago, and she took the idea and ran with it. Apparently, they have spread like wildfire through your company. I uhm…" Wait, Esme was bashful about something? "…I actually copyrighted the Fantasy Basket concept and worked with Shelly to license it out to you, so I get a nice little royalty check from Passionista once in awhile."

Lauren gasped. "Oh my god, Esme. Are you serious? You _created_ The Fantasy Basket?"

"Oh, it's nothing… Anyway, tonight we want to focus on getting Bella all set up." I looked at her in shock. "Don't worry Bella, we won't try to embarrass you. We'll be very discreet," Esme promised.

"Bella, you are lucky to have such a cool mother-in- uh, friend! And you definitely have nothing to worry about. My business exists because nice girls like us want a safe, private place to learn more about these kinds of things. (nice girls like _her_?) This will be fun and painless, I promise! Esme, I'd love to show you a couple of our newest baskets. This one is great for beginners…"

They wandered off to the table to look at the scary assortment as Alice entered, wearing a French maid's costume. "Bonjour madame!" She shook her feather duster at me. After picking my jaw up off the floor, I whispered, "I can't believe my mother-in-law is a sex toy entrepreneur and is over there talking about my love life with her son to a total stranger." Alice giggled. "Lauren's right, you know, Esme is way-cool. Jasper's mom is such a prude that she almost passed out with embarrassment when we showed her our honeymoon photos. I mean, pictures of the beach and the ocean and stuff, not the bed! Esme is awesome, You're so lucky!"

More guests arrived and the party got underway, Lauren passing around all kinds of books and DVDs, candles and lotions, costumes and props, and vibrators. All sorts of vibrators. She assured us they had never been used, but they still made me squeamish. I flipped through the catalog so I wouldn't have to look at the real things and there it was.

"Oh my god, Esme! This chair that Riley likes to play on and slide down is a SEX CHAIR?" I had always thought that wavy, undulating chair in the retreat off her master bedroom was some arty, high fashion piece of designer furniture, yet here it was in the Passionista catalog, with the models demonstrating many different ways of… um… enjoying it.

"It's lots of fun to play on, no matter how old you are." I felt like I was going to be sick. "Bella, I clean it every time, don't worry. It's really no different from him climbing around on your bed. It's just a piece of furniture."

"Here, Bella, I think you need a drink." Alice handed me a glass of wine.

Lauren continued, "So, Esme, I'm really excited to have you with us here tonight. Ladies, this is the creator of the Fantasy Basket, which is one of our top sellers. Would you mind telling us what Fantasy Baskets are and a little about how you came up with the idea for them?"

A murmur of excitement and interest went through the group of guests.

"That's right!" Esme blushed. "The Fantasy Basket idea actually helped save my marriage. It all happened about 20 years ago, pre-internet, and before home parties like this existed, so I didn't have nearly as much information or as many products as we do now, but at the time I had two boys in grade school, and an extremely busy and stressed out husband who was so focused on his career that I was feeling pretty neglected and worried about our future. He's an attractive guy in a high profile job and…

Alice interrupted, "Come on, Esme, don't be so modest. He is gorgeous, and a heart surgeon, and… well, more than just an attractive guy."

"Alice, jeez!" I hushed her.

"Well, like I said… I trusted him but I felt that if things continued on as they were—the complacency, the boredom—he'd have ample opportunity to stray, and I was determined to fight for him, to keep the homefires lit and never let them burn out. I'd even gotten up the nerve to go to a porn shop for a few items to spice things up, but we rarely found time to use them. I was lucky if we were intimate once a month!" A general nod of understanding went through the crowd. "So, for Christmas one year, he unwrapped a pair of silky boxers with a note saying that I knew how hard Santa had been working and that Mrs. Claus would meet him in the bedroom that night to help him unload his big, heavy package…" She fluttered her eyelashes.

"Ahh… TMI, TMI," I cringed. Alice and the other guests laughed and Alice whispered to them that Esme was my mother-in-law. _So much for our deception_.

"I met him there that night in my Santa negligee and black stilettos with a basket full of little presents and a grab bag full of notes. The first note promised to meet him there every Tuesday night of the year to play out a fantasy. He was supposed to wear some of his sexy new underwear every Tuesday morning and choose one of the notes, so he could think about his fantasy all day long and then play it out at night."

"What kinds of things were on the notes, Esme?" Lauren prompted.

"Well, it was hard to think of 52 things. My girlfriend helped me brainstorm, and I think we made it to about 40-45, so I invited him to add some of his own and I added more throughout the year as I thought of things. I included everything from a bubble bath and massage to exploring each of the five senses, to every kind of roleplay and costume I could think of, to a little taste of domination/submission. I included some that we could do when I had my period, too, and I printed those on a different color paper for the grab bag.

"Like what?" one of Alice's neighbors asked.

"It's actually ok to have sex during your cycle," Lauren interjected. "Just use a towel to protect your sheets. There's nothing harmful. We have these really handy wipes to keep nearby to clean things up."

"I know, but…" Esme crinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head no, "…not our thing. Anyway, things I included for that time of the month were…" she thought for a second, "Oh let's see—a cum shot, a candy cane, cleavage sex, tantric gaze…"

"Oh my god, Esme, is that what you guys were doing at the pizza place? It's like you guys were in a trance!"

Esme raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Oh, no. That was different. That was… pride, accomplishment, fulfillment of a dream." She bit her lip and looked down, trying to contain her emotions.

She shook her head and returned her attention to the party guests. "Sorry. The idea behind the Fantasy Basket was that all day every Tuesday he would be physically reminded of me by the silk shorts, as well as mentally reminded of me by anticipating the fantasy for that night. I was thinking of him during the day as well, as I planned and prepared for our evening rendezvous. So, by implementing these fantasies just one day a week to start, we were eventually able to change our whole relationship. We were focusing our minds on each other, we were increasing the frequency and improving the quality and variety of our physical connection, and the great talks we had before and after our lovemaking helped us improve communication with each other, which carried over to other times of day as well. It really helped make us stronger as a couple. And now, we're more in love than ever, after 39 years of marriage."

"It's true." I noted. "You should see them. They are adorable. So lovey dovey! That's one of the first things I noticed when Edward took me home to meet them—they were so in love with each other. I knew it was a great thing that he'd grown up with that kind of example. When I met his folks I knew for sure that he was good marriage material."

"As if being a rich, brilliant doctor who plays the piano and happens to be smokin' hot wasn't enough to convince you?" Alice declared.

I blushed.

"We Cullens," Esme added from behind me, giving my shoulder a squeeze, "are very, very lucky women." I smiled and nodded, wondering why the guests laughed.

"Alice, what's so funny?" I whispered, as Lauren took over the presentation, showing off the Fantasy Baskets offered by her company.

"Very lucky women," she repeated, holding her index fingers up about nine inches apart.

"Esme," I gasped and turned to face her. "You didn't!" Jeez, there were people there from Riley's playgroup.

"Hmm?" she asked, innocently as she walked toward the kitchen to refill her drink. "Would you like a refill?"

Somehow I made it through the evening without dying of embarrassment. I eventually managed to relax a little, so that I could enjoy the party and learn a few new things. With Esme's and Alice's prompting, I wound up purchasing the Deluxe Fantasy Basket, which included everything I would need for '52 Nights of FANTAStic Sex!' Esme threatened to buy it for Edward for his birthday in two weeks if I didn't, so I gave in. I also got some strawberry flavored lubricant and a waterproof Rabbit, which Alice insists is an 'accessory that no woman's bedside table should be without.' _Holy crow!_

I don't even want to know what was in Esme's bag, but she and Carlisle didn't waste any time saying good night and heading upstairs after we got home. Edward and I snuggled down for the night, tired and still a little tentative after our fight. I was a bit traumatized myself, and didn't want to stir up his apprehensions about revealing too much to Esme, so when he asked about the party, I vaguely answered as I massaged his neck and shoulders, "It was a fun girls' night out. Thanks for giving me two in one week, sweet husband of mine."

"Mmm." He'd melted from the back rub. I kissed him and settled down to sleep, hand on his chest, foot trapped between his calves, smile on my face.

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**A/N**

**I'm posting this chapter on New Year's Day. It's a time for goal setting so I thought I'd share mine: Since I first posted this story, I've hoped it would reach 1000 reviews. Will you please help me reach that by leaving a short message in the box? Even a :), 3, or 'thanks' is enough. **

**Thanks to teacher1209, just4me, gracefish21, and .cullen1313 for the reviews of the last chapter. **

**Thanks to Besotted. She helps me not worry about the numbers—just the story.**

**Thanks for reading. Hope your year is filled with happiness and success.**

**JEN**


	10. Chapter 9—Esme: New Year, New Troubles

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 6/13/12. ****Re-posted 1/4/13.**

**Please Review!**

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**Chapter 9—Esme: New Year, New Troubles**

January 1991

_I love New Years. I sit late at night, all alone, assessing the year that has passed and imagining the one that is to come. I write it all in a journal—it's the only entry most years. As I sat in my favorite red chair pondering the close of 1990, I looked back at last year's entry and was pleased at how far Carlisle and I had come. Last year, I'd been so hopeless, so desperate, so lonely, seeking refuge and escape from my own life. This year, while things still aren't perfect—far from it—my outlook on life is so much more optimistic. Carlisle and I are just so much more… present in each other's lives. We talk and make time to be together, do nice things to surprise each other and really listen to what the other has to say. We show affection by touching and looking into each other's eyes and kissing or hugging or just holding hands once in awhile. It's really, really nice. _

_As an added benefit, while my relationship with Carlisle has improved, so have my other relationships and my general outlook on things. I'm much happier overall, which makes me a better mom and a better friend. I'm feeling a lot more confident in myself as well. One of the goals I wrote down in the "Self Improvement" column, besides the typical annual goals for more exercise, weight loss, and eating better, is "find a meaningful job or volunteer work where I can use my creativity and make a difference or contribution." It's a tall order, I know, and I have no idea what I really would like to be doing, but with both boys in school now and most of the goals in my "Home Improvements" column already met, I just want to make myself a better person. I want to contribute more to my family, be a more interesting person… It's funny, and completely counter to any feminist tendencies, but I want to be a better person for _him_. _

_OK, the ball dropped over an hour ago and I'm starting to sound sappy, even to myself, so I'd better get to bed. _

I tiptoed into our room and tried to sneak into bed without disturbing my husband, but I couldn't resist leaning over to give him a New Year's kiss. He couldn't care less about New Years**'s** parties or resolutions and goes to bed at 10:00, just like any other night, but I'm a sucker for the tradition and sentimentality. He celebrates by opening up a brand new date book and flipping through the blank pages with a big smile on his face, like he did yesterday. I was so happy when he took up a pen (not a pencil, a pen) and wrote in a date night for the two of us every other week for the entire year. I smiled at the memory and kissed him gently on his temple. "Happy New Year, Sweetheart." He surprised me when he rolled toward me, half awake. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I couldn't get to sleep without you. I've gotten used to having you here again." I smiled at that. "Whatcha been doin'?" he mumbled while pulling me into his arms, cradling my head to his chest.

"Just thinking about the past year and planning things for the next year. I do that every New Year's Eve."

"Hmmm." He caressed my shoulder. As it slowed, I could tell he was drifting into sleep.

"I'm so glad we're happier now, Sweetheart. This will be a great year, I just know it." I don't know if he could feel the tear dribble onto his chest, but he gave me a squeeze, said, "My Ezzy," and I could feel his lips curl into a smile where they rested on top of my head as he sailed off to dreamland.

The kids were back to school after their Christm… I mean, Winter Break (_darn PC movement!_) and I headed back to the gym. My step class had about twice as many people as usual. Happens every year—all the New Year's resolutions. It's sadly humorous to observe how long it takes for the numbers to dwindle back down to normal. Most years, the room is packed the first two weeks of January. Then, after two or three weeks about half the new people are gone. And by mid-February, we're back to our core group of regulars with maybe a handful of new folks.

I've been coming to the gym three days a week pretty consistently since Emmett started kindergarten. I love the music and camaraderie in class.

I tried jogging before I joined the gym—I ran with Carlisle for awhile, but he wanted to run faster and farther than I could, and I felt bad for slowing him down. Then I tried jogging alone but even with my Walkman it was just _so boring_! Not my cup of tea at all.

Classes at the gym are so much more fun. They are even more fun now that my best friend Carmen is back. Her baby Gianna is six months old, so she can finally leave her in the childcare center downstairs while we work out and shower.

The time this class meets is perfect for me and lots of other moms. It starts a half hour after I drop the boys off at school, and since I dress in my gym clothes those mornings, packing my clothes and toiletries in my gym bag, I have an incentive to go to class: if I don't work out, I'm stuck with dirty hair and sloppy gym clothes all day. It may be a silly way to motivate myself, but it gets me there. If my granny taught me anything, it was to always take pride in myself by looking my best, so schlepping around in sweats is NOT something I will do.

My step class is great. They introduced it a couple of years ago. It's really fun and it challenges my brain and body more than regular aerobics (a.k.a, "duh-robics"). Over the years, I've developed friendships with many of the other people who take the class, mostly full time moms like me, and with our instructor Irina.

She's awesome. She's got so much energy and enthusiasm. I love that she's in her 30s with kids like most of us in her class. She understands sore knees and stiff backs and sleepless nights spent with babies or sick kids and she can relate to her students better than the bouncy 22 year old drill sergeant who taught the old aerobics class.

We were having fun in class today, though it was kind of slow and simplified for all the new people. I could tell that Irina wasn't 100% today. Something was off. She usually introduces a new routine on Mondays, which she didn't. She missed some calls, got off beat a couple of times, and even tripped during _Pump Up The Jam_, which is very unlike her. And her energy level was low today.

She's usually such a dynamo. It was nothing the new people would notice, but when Carmen quirked her eyebrow at me and nodded toward Irina during a water break, and when my friend Lisa muttered, "What's up with Irina?" I knew I wasn't imagining it.

The three of us held back after class until the crowd cleared out and Irina had answered everyone's questions. We approached and asked how she was doing, how her Christmas was, etc. She tried to hide what was wrong, but when I put my hand on her arm and asked, "Is everything ok? Are you sure you're all right?" she darted her eyes around the room to make sure it was just the four of us and then hung her head in her hands.

"No, I got some really bad news over the holidays. I'm sorry, I just couldn't focus today." She was close to tears.

"Oh, Irina, don't worry about the class. What's wrong? Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I don't know, I just… I…" She looked up at us with tears in her eyes and sniffed, "Both my mom and my older sister were diagnosed with breast cancer last month. When I went back east for Christmas, they told all of us about it. They're going in together for their first chemo treatment today, so I'm kind of a basket case."

Gasp.

"Oh my god!"

"Both of them?"

"Oh, Irina…" We were all shocked to hear our friend's sad news and supportive as she relayed more details.

I asked what she was doing for the rest of the day, thinking that she may not want to be alone. She had a couple of hours free and another class in the afternoon, so I asked if she'd like to join me for lunch. The other girls have small children and had to get home for naps, so it was just Irina and me.

As we ate, she told me all about her family and shared some happy memories, trying not to worry and dwell on the current situation. She was terrified, knowing that she must be genetically inclined to contract the disease as well. I just listened and tried to be a good, supportive friend, feeling terrible for her and her family.

We parted with a big hug and her promise to keep me posted and call if she needed a shoulder to cry on. Poor thing. I can't imagine…

I drove home in a daze. I knew cancer was out there everywhere; I'd had acquaintances before who had gotten sick, but for some reason, this news really affected me. Maybe because Irina's a friend. Maybe because it hit two of her family members at once. Maybe because her sister is about my age. I don't know, but I was really shaken and depressed.

When I got home I saw several messages blinking on my answering machine. There are usually one or two, but today there were six. _oh oh_! One was from a friend confirming our carpool arrangements, and two were telemarketers—no big deal. But two were from the boys' school about an hour ago and one was from Carlisle's office, which the school called when they couldn't reach me. _Oh shoot_!

Edward had gotten into a fight at school and was developing a black eye. He'd been sent to the nurse and then the counselor's office and they wanted someone to come and pick him up early. _Poor baby, sitting there waiting!_

I called the school back right away to let them know I was on my way there, and called Carlisle's office to let them know the situation was taken care of. Carlisle had been in a surgery, so the office assistant for his surgical group had taken the call from the school and then left me the message. _Good. I'd hate to have him stressed out at work about Edward being hurt or about me being MIA_.

I picked Edward up at school and got the full story from the counselor. He's been having trouble with a little boy in his class named Jacob Black all year, and today they fought over a tetherball game on the playground. Jacob gave Edward a black eye and Edward gave Jacob a bruised shin before the noon-duty teachers were able to intervene.

There's no excuse for bullying and fighting, but in Jacob's case, his behavior problems are at least understandable. He lost his mom to a drunk driver about a year ago. His dad Billy is wheelchair-bound from the accident and had to go on disability from his job. Billy is having a lot of trouble managing his injuries and his three children all alone. It's such a tragic story.

Carlisle had helped operate on Jacob's mother, but the injuries were too extensive to save her. He's trained not to take his patients' outcomes personally, but since Jacob and Edward were good friends in kindergarten last year, it was hard for him not to. Carlisle had been grumpy for a week after Janine Black's death, so it's no surprise that poor little Jacob had been lashing out this past year. Still, I had a talk with Edward about using words instead of fists, taking a deep breath and counting to ten, and taking it to a grown up if words didn't work.

"Mom, I tried talking to him, but he won't ever listen. I was in the middle of a game with Michael and I was gonna WIN, but Jacob grabbed the rope and held the ball up and we couldn't get it away from him 'cause he's so tall. I told him to gimme the ball, but he wouldn't and he stepped on Michael's foot ON PURPOSE FOR NO REASON and I was jumpin' up and tryin' to grab the ball and telling him to gimme it back and my elbow slipped an' hit his mouth and then he socked me in the eye, so I kicked him! Then the teacher came up and made us stop, but then recess was over, so we didn't get to play anymore and that was my BEST GAME EVER before stupid Jacob messed it up!"

"Oh, Edward… hitting and kicking are not ok, even when someone's being mean to you. And we don't use that S- word in our family. Maybe when Jacob interrupted your game, you could have asked him to wait and offered to let him play against the winner. Do you think that would have been a better way to handle it?"

"No—He won't listen. He's just a big MEANIE! I HATE Jacob Black!"

We had told both of the boys about the Blacks (one of Jacob's older sisters is in Emmett's grade) warning them that their sadness and anger about their parents might boil over at school sometimes, and urging our boys to be compassionate, but I'm afraid the friendship between Jacob and Edward is probably irreparable. Edward is scared of Jacob, plain and simple. Jacob is much bigger than he is, and makes Edward his most frequent bullying target.

"Eddie-Bear, remember what we talked about before? Jacob needs you to be a good friend right now. He's having a hard time since his mommy died and sometimes that makes him act in bad ways." He crossed his arms, grumbled under his breath, and kicked a rock as we walked out to the car. I took Edward home and let him watch a video with some ice on his eye. When the carpool dropped Emmett off at home, he took a look at Edward's shiner and said, "Cool, Dude! It makes you look tough! What's the other guy look like?" _Sigh, these boys…_

Carlisle arrived home that evening as I was cooking dinner and silently placed a box on my place at the table. It was a new pager, just for me… _Oh oh, he's ticked off!_ I should have known his office assistant would tell him, even though I handled it. _Grrr_… Carlisle doesn't scream and yell when he's angry, he seethes. He talks really quietly and enunciates every syllable. I think it's similar to the 'calm under pressure' demeanor he has to adopt while he's in surgery.

"No one could find you today, so I thought this might help." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Is Edward ok?" _Can you say 'passive aggressive?'_

"He's fine. Got into a tussle with Jacob playing tetherball. I had a talk with him about fighting again, as did the school counselor. You might want to mention it, too." I took a deep breath. _Wait for it… here it comes…_

"And you were… _where_… all day?" he pinched the bridge of his nose. _Wipe that smug, pinched look off your face, ya jerk!_

"I was in my class at the gym, and then I was comforting a friend over lunch who just learned that her mother _and_ her sister have cancer."

"Oh… that's a shame." _Is he backing off?... Nope, the tight line of his lips says "no."_

"Yes, it's terrible. And I'm a terrible mother for letting my son sit injured in the office. I'm sorry, ok? I felt awful about Edward, but it's not like I was goofing off and neglecting him. I got to him as soon as I found out." _I know I shouldn't let him get to me, but I can't help it, my inner drama queen always wants to come out and defend herself when he's like this._

He huffed a breath in through his nose. "Good. Hopefully this pager will alert you more expeditiously if a situation like this arises again." _There are the big, pointy words..._ "The number is written on the booklet inside. If you could just give that to the school, and make sure you carry this when you're not at home" … _And now he's treating me like I'm five._

"I will. Thank you." _A little false courtesy right back at'cha, dude_. "Would you have a look at Edward's eye, please?" _Please leave me alone. Go make yourself useful_.

With one terse nod, he walked away.

Funny, his tone of voice changed completely when he approached Edward on the couch. "Hey, how's my boy? You doin' ok, Little Buddy? Let Daddy take a look…" _aargh!_

I pasted a smile on my face to get through dinner and baths and bedtime.

Carlisle startled me as I stood at the sink, finishing up the dinner dishes. "They're all tucked in." I stiffened when he placed his hands on my shoulders and a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm sorry about your friend," he murmured in my ear. I nodded curtly.

He was going to ignore his earlier tiff—sweep it under the rug. _Unbelievable_. I shrugged his hands off me and reached for a towel to dry my hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Are you serious? You're just going to ignore that whole exchange we had when you got home?"

He cocked his head to the side. "What… You don't like the beeper?"

I scoffed and shook my head incredulously. "The beeper's fine, but I don't appreciate your treating me like an idiot… like a three year old. 'And you were doing _what_ all day?" I mimicked sarcastically.

"Ezzy…"

"God, you sound just like your mother. She's always mean and condescending to me, but I don't expect YOU to treat me that way. I'm your wife—your equal—I'm not your child, so don't you treat me like one."

He was completely taken aback. "I… I didn't realize I sounded that way."

"Well maybe you should use your little Dictaphone and record the way you speak to me next time you're ticked off about something. Might be enlightening."

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Es." His face went completely blank and he turned to walk away, probably headed upstairs to bed even though it's only 9:00. _And there's avoidance and the silent treatment. The final step in all of Carlisle's hissy fits…_

"Carlisle…" He ignored me. "Carlisle!" I caught up and took his arm, nudging him toward the couch. "Sit down," I sighed. "Let's have some tea."

He slouched on the couch, head back, eyes closed, silently pulling his hair while we waited for the water to boil. Watching him stew, I started to feel guilty. I tried to calm myself and turn my bitchiness down a notch or two.

I set our tea down on the coffee table, gently took his wrists to pull his hands down to his lap, and tugged on his shoulder. "Sit up." I ran my own fingers through his soft blonde hair a few times to try to tame the mess he'd stirred up.

I sat down next to him, handed him his tea, and on a whim I grabbed the VCR remote off the table. I pointed it at myself and pushed the rewind button. "Rewind—Let's do this over."

He looked at me like I was crazy, then smiled as I placed his empty hand on my shoulder, leaned into him, and turned his chin toward my ear. "You had just said…" Moving his jaw with my fingers and using a deep voice I said, "'I'm sorry about your friend." He snickered at my goofiness. "And I _should_ have said 'Thank you, it's been a really rough day.'" I placed my hand atop his on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry I made you worry about Edward."

He set his cup down so that he could massage my shoulders with both hands and kissed the shell of my ear. "I'm sorry I snipped at you. I didn't mean to make you feel belittled. And I didn't get you the pager to be spiteful. I really thought it might be helpful."

I savored the massage for a few seconds more, then took a deep breath and leaned back into his chest, placing my hands on his forearms as he wrapped them around me. "I know. The delivery just kind of sucked." He nodded into my neck and gave me an apologetic squeeze. "Sorry I compared you to your mother." I squeezed his knee.

"Hey, I learned from the best!" he chuckled.

"Well, I think we need to un-learn that particular communication style. I think we both need to teach ourselves how to… fight… nicer."

"Yeah." He held me tight and rocked us a bit.

Both of our moods started to pick up a bit. "No dumping, right?"

He smiled. "Nope. No dumping." He released me and reached for his tea.

Talk of his mom and my already foul mood dredged up old issues. "I wish she liked me," I whispered, trying not to cry. "I'd always dreamed that when I got married, I'd finally get a mom again."

"Ezzy, you know her actions have nothing to do with you. It's unbelievable to me that she can't see how wonderful and kind and beautiful you are.

No one would have been good enough for her only child, though, you know that. My getting married and moving on with my life meant that she was all alone with Dad, and it's their own damn fault that they didn't prepare themselves for that stage of life. It's her loss, Es. She's missing out on so much by not loving you."

I realized he was right, and vowed to myself that I'd never let my relationship with Carlisle go stale again and that I'd love and cherish my future daughters-in-law as if they were my own flesh and blood.

"What brought on the mom issues, Es?"

My face fell. "My friend Irina."

He took a deep breath. "Her mom and her sister both, huh? That's brutal."

I nodded.

"What kind of cancers do they have?"

"Breast. Both of them. She's scared to death. Her sister's my age."

He lifted my hand to his lips, then held it in his on his knee. "What's the prognosis?"

"The sister's is early, a small lump. But her mom's has spread to the lymph nodes."

He sighed and shook his head. "I'll pray for them."

I nodded, "Me, too. I wish there's more I could do, but they live back east. Ohio, I think…"

My mind started wandering, connecting all the sad stories of mothers passing and leaving their children alone. "At least Irina's grown. Her mom has been to her wedding, her college graduation, held her children… Poor little Jacob and his sisters will never get that." Tears flowed down my face.

"I wish he weren't taking it out on Edward, but I remember what it was like. For years after Mama died, I could be anywhere, doing anything, and without warning it would just hit me. I'd be overcome with these feelings of rage and despair. I'd lash out, not even aware of anyone around me or what I was doing. That died down mostly by the time I met you, but even now, certain places or things I see or hear will set me off. I just get this pang of emotion in my heart. I guess that's what happened today. I'm sorry I took it out on you."

Carlisle brushed my hair out of my face and wiped my tears. "I'm sorry I made it worse. I'll do everything I can to make you feel better. I'm pretty good at fixing hearts, you know." He placed our clasped hands over my heart. I smiled weakly and sniffed. He looked into my eyes. "No more tears, Baby. We don't do red eyes in our family."

"Are you treating me like a child again, mister?" I joked.

He put his hands up in front of him as if being arrested. "No, ma'am! You are 100% in charge around here!"

I laughed, "Well then, I want you to take me upstairs and snuggle me."

"As you wish…" I smiled at the reference he'd made to the great movie we'd seen on our last date night.

The next day, I wanted to surprise Carlisle for lunch. I confirmed with his assistant that his calendar was clear and drove to his office. As the elevator opened on his floor, I could hear someone yelling at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Cullen? Get your hands off my wife!"

_Oh my gosh, what's going on?_ I rushed down the hall toward the shouting and looked in to see Carlisle sitting at the feet of Victoria, Dr. Hunter's wife—the fiery redhead who had come on to Carlisle at the Christmas party.

She was on the examination table. His back was to me, but I could see that he had one of his hands on her ankle, the other on her calf. She was shifting on the crinkly paper, moving her knees together. _Had she just spread her legs right in front of his face, wearing that short dress?_

Dr. Hunter was rushing forward, about to lift Carlisle up by the lapels of his lab coat. Victoria stood up and straightened her skirt, looking very much like the victim of an unwanted advance.

"Keep my hands off _her_? She's the aggressor here, James! She's the one who lied about twisting her ankle in those ridiculous high heels and probably lied about you being with a patient to get me in here alone so she could…"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" I demanded, hands on hips.

"Esme…" Carlisle gasped with a mixture of relief and horror.

"Explain yourselves!" I glared at him. Victoria tried to slink off, James in tow, a smug smile on her devious face showing how pleased she was that Carlisle—that scoundrel—got caught by the missus.

"You. Stay." I raged at her. "Are you making moves on my husband… _again_?"

"Again?" James shouted. "Vic, what's this all about?"

"According to your charming wife, Dr. Hunter, she's just dying to get Carlisle out of his underwear."

"What?" James boomed. "Who do you think you are, lady?"

"Hey, that's my wife." Carlisle fumed.

"And this is mine. She would never…"

"That was a joke!" Victoria shrieked. "Remember when I stole the Santa G-string from her at the Christmas party, Jamie? I just teased her that I was taking it and she wouldn't get to see Dr. Cullen in it."

"No, that's not exactly what you said, Victoria." I was disgusted again, recalling her words.

Carlisle looked on, dumbfounded, his head bobbing between me and the Hunters like he was watching a game of tennis.

"It was more like, 'I'd gladly strip Carlisle of his shorts any day.' And then you winked. Very subtle."

"Esme, you're so full of it! Get over yourse…"

"Actually, I think she used the word 'underwear,' not 'shorts.'" A deep voice interjected from the crowd gathering behind me. Thankfully, Garrett Russell had stepped in to confirm my side of the story. "Yeah, she'd 'gladly strip Carlisle of his _underwear_ anyday,' is what I remember. And she did wink. It was pretty sleazy."

"Mm Hm. And then you and Kate took me home."

"Right. But first, remember when we were putting on our coats? That's when James tried on the g-string and stuffed it with tissue paper after you'd said it would probably be too small for Carlisle anyway." The onlookers burst out laughing.

James gripped Victoria's arm and the Hunters left in a huff.

Carlisle's jaw dropped.

Garrett and I looked at each other and started laughing, too. "Too bad you got paged, Cullen. You missed quite a gift exchange!" Garrett high fived a couple of the guys who had gathered around, describing just what had gone down at the Christmas party as the crowd dispersed.

"Thank you," I mouthed to him. He replied with a wink and a smile.

Carlisle and I were left alone. He circled my waist with his arms and breathed "my hero" into my ear.

"Just doing my job, sir, keeping the innocent safe from treacherous villains."

As we walked to the elevator, Carlisle took my hand and slipped me a little piece of paper as he whispered into my ear, "I kept fingering this in my pocket all morning. It's driving me crazy. Maybe she picked up on my horny thoughts or something. I'll let _you_ enjoy it for the rest of the day."

"That vamp probably sniffed your arousal and tracked you down. I can't believe her. How can her husband not see what she's doing?"

"Shhh… Baby! That's enough about her. She's nothing. Forget about it. Read this. It's perfect." He grinned as we stepped in. I unfolded the slip of paper in the semi-privacy of the elevator and read:

_Doctor, I'm not feeling well at all. I've got an itch that I can't scratch, my heart is beating so fast, I'm short of breath, and I feel like I'm going to faint. I will probably need a full examination and maybe even an injection. Can you help me, Doctor? Please?_

I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows. Then, with a devious grin, I placed the back of my hand against my forehead, and sighed, "Oh, Dr. Cullen," pretending to swoon against the elevator wall. His eyes were full of lust as he caught me, pressing his body against me. "You're in luck," he breathed into my ear. "I make house calls."

With that, he planted a single, soulful kiss on my lips and backed away, resting nonchalantly against the back wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets, as the doors opened to the lobby.

As Carlisle opened the passenger side door of his sexy Porsche and guided me inside, we spotted the Hunters across the parking lot, screaming at each other next to her car. He gave them a friendly honk of the horn and I waved my fingers at them as we sped by.

Later that night, I found a paper medical robe on my bathroom vanity with instructions written in Carlisle's barely-legible handwriting. 'Open in front. Nothing underneath.' _Oh, Doctor!_

As I waited on the bed, he knocked twice and walked into the room, donning his white lab coat, "Dr. Cullen" embroidered above the pocket, with a stethoscope draped around his neck. _Mmm. He's such a babe_!

"Hello Miss Platt. How are you today?" I smiled at his use of my maiden name. _Oh, sexy doctor, I think I just soaked a hole through this paper robe. _

"Dr. Cullen, I'm so glad you're here. Can you help me?" I looked up at him, eyes wide and flirty, and spoke in a high, breathy, youthful voice.

"What seems to be the problem?" He was all business. Very serious.

"I'm afraid something's terribly wrong, doctor. Every time I see you or even think about you, my heart starts beating so fast. I can't seem to catch my breath, I feel like I'm going to faint, and I have this irresistible feeling between my legs—like an itch that I can never quite scratch. And when I'm not near you, I get this terrible ache." I grasped at my chest. "I don't know what it is, doctor, can you please help me?"

"Well, let's take a look." He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and I placed my hand on his waist as he ran the test. As the cuff filled with air, squeezing my arm, I thought with a smirk of something else I'd like to squeeze.

He stared at my lips and barely whispered "open" to place a thermometer under my tongue.

He combed the hair away from my face and traced the outside of my ears with his finger before looking inside with his scope.

I pursed my lips around the thermometer, sucking on it as he slid if from my mouth, causing him to gulp. I smiled, knowing he was getting as turned on by our role play as I was. He ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

"Open wide."

He clenched his jaw as my mouth opened into a wide O, took in his tongue depressor, and moaned an erotic sounding, "Ahhhh…"

When he slowly slid his stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in his ears, my breath hitched. As he stood to my side and placed the scope against my back, I couldn't help but shudder with the deep breaths he requested.

I closed my eyes, overcome with desire, and gripped his coat along the button placket. The bare skin peeking between his lapels, and the lean, muscular runner's legs extending below the hem of his coat indicated that he wore no shirt, no slacks.

Was he completely bare underneath that lab coat? Was he naked? The thought of it caused a wave of heat to flush through my body.

As he moved around front to my chest, I placed my hands behind me and leaned on them, dropping my head back so that I peered at the ceiling. This caused my chest to jut out toward the good doctor as he spread my paper robe apart to check my racing heart.

"Hmmm… I see what you mean. Your heart rate is quite elevated. Would you like to listen?"

"Yes, doctor," I purred.

He removed the stethoscope from his ears and placed it gently in mine. He lifted the round disc and whispered almost silently into it, "I love you," before placing it on my racing heart. I closed my eyes and smiled gently, listening to the evidence of my desire for him.

"Only for you, Carlisle," I whispered.

After a brief pause, I heard a slightly different beat and opened my eyes to see him holding the instrument to his own bare chest. I looked up into his eyes and he replied, "And mine beats for you, Ezzy."

I placed my hand over the one he held to his chest. He cupped my face with his free hand and gazed into my eyes, dazzling me with a sea of brilliant blue, as we silently worshipped each other to the steady, strong, beating of his heart. He broke our reverie with a soft kiss, removed the tool from my ears, and resumed his examination.

"Now, Miss Platt, since you mentioned some discomfort between your legs, I'll need to conduct a complete gynecological exam as well. Will that be all right?"

"Yes, doctor, anything you need to do. I'm in your capable hands." I batted my eyelashes at him a couple times and we both tried to stifle a laugh.

"We'll start with a breast exam. Are you checking yourself every month?" He laid me down on my back.

"I try to doctor, but sometimes I forget."

He spread the paper robe open wider to expose my chest and proceeded to give me a thorough breast exam, reminding me how to do a self exam as he did so. When finished, he caressed my cheek and said, "You're perfect," looking tenderly into my eyes and nodding slightly to let me know that I was safe and healthy, reassuring me after Irina's terrible news yesterday. My lips turned up in thanks.

He leaned down to kiss me first on the lips, then on the top of each breast as he cupped them from below. He moved to stand, but I guided his head toward my nipple, desperate for the moist warmth of his tongue on my most sensitive spots. I moaned as his suckling and nibbling on one side and then the other made me dizzy and sent tingling jolts of desire to my pelvis.

He stood with a grin. "That's an exam I only conduct on house calls. You should feel very lucky."

"Oh doctor, I'm the luckiest woman alive." It's true. I feel so blessed that Carlisle chose me and has stood faithfully by my side for all these years. This beautiful man. So many women admire him, desire him… some of them half my age, yet even through our difficult times, I'm the girl he wants. Lucky, indeed.

"Are you ready to move on?" He moved his hands to my waist, ready to tear apart the flimsy plastic sash that held the paper robe closed. I nodded, and with a growl, he tore it open, exposing me to him, head to toe. He began pressing my belly and pelvis to check my internal organs. He reached into his bag for KY Jelly and a latex glove, and then I felt his fingers thrust inside me—two, I think—feeling my cervix and other lady parts.

"You know, at our age, physiological changes start to occur which might make you feel uncomfortable during intercourse. Be sure to use a lubricant every time, Miss Platt, so that you can fully enjoy every sexual experience. Even when your own body makes you as wet as you are tonight, an added lubricant will ensure that you don't miss any of the pleasure."

"Thank you doctor Cullen. That's excellent advice."

Carlisle concluded the clinical part of the exam, and began using his fingers to massage all my most sensitive places. As he concentrated on my g-spot, my breathing sped up and I could feel my nerves and muscles tightening, clenching, twitching as I approached orgasm.

"Oh, doctor," I moaned.

He wasn't ready to let me go over the edge quite yet and slowed his fingers, causing me to pout at the loss.

He moved his hand to my backside, drumming his finger tips over my anus, causing me to clench.

"Carlisle…" I objected, uncomfortable and a little disgusted, freaked out by what he was doing, and what else I thought he might do.

"Just relax and take a deep breath, Miss Platt. Do you like that?"

I squirmed. "It tickles."

"Mm Hm. Do you like it?"

"Um… I guess so." I giggled, embarrassed to admit that it did feel pretty good. "Yes."

He smiled and kissed me.

"Ahhh…" I sighed as he moved down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips.

When his face was between my thighs, he spread my labia with his fingers and took a long look. "So pretty," he murmured.

Hungry eyes met mine for a moment before he remembered his role play. "Hmm… Let's have a closer look." He licked his lips and then placed a slow, gentle kiss between my legs. He pulled away quickly, eyebrows knit and trying to hide a grimace as he sought the paper gown I'd worn and used it to wipe the artificial lubricant from my body.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He kissed me again and looked up with a reassuring smile. Then his tongue darted out and gave me a quick lick. "Yum."

I snickered and wove my fingers through his hair, guiding him closer. He obliged. Kissing, nibbling, sucking. "Oh god…" Flicking, lapping, swirling. "That's so good…" And every so often, tickling my backside again with the hand that was still gloved. "Oh YES Carlisle, right there, just like that."

I loved the added sensation and felt my body building up to the orgasmic state it had been in before my husband surprised me with his first touch _back there_. I took a deep, cleansing breath in. As I let it out slowly, I felt my stomach, my pelvis, my thighs, clench and tighten and explode in a blast of tingling white light radiating out from deep inside me to the tips of my fingers and toes. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming out loud. I moaned. "Oh, god… Oh my god… Ooooooh." My chest heaved, trying to get enough oxygen.

Carlisle looked up slowly, looking smug and I heard him snap off the latex glove. Once I'd caught my breath and come down from my bliss, I asked him what in the world prompted him to touch me like that.

"You've surprised me with so many new things with the Fantasy Basket, I wanted to surprise you with something new. I hope you liked it. I love being your first, you know." He gave me a quick kiss and then returned to character.

"Now, Miss Platt, I believe I've identified the problem you're having, but I'd like to conduct an ultrasound to confirm my diagnosis."

"Oh my goodness, I'm not pregnant, am I?" _What in the world is he talking about? He doesn't have an ultrasound machine here. _

"No, no. I suspect something completely different. I just need to take a closer look, ok?"

"Of course, doctor, whatever you need to do."

"Very well. Here we are." He held up my hot pink vibrator. I covered my face with my hands and laughed. He tried to stifle a chuckle as well, and then cleared his throat to continue, "You've had a vaginal ultrasound before, haven't you, Miss Platt?"

"Yes, Sir, I have." We were barely stifling our giggles.

"Good, so you know what to expect. This should give us a good feel for what's going on between your legs so that I can settle on a course of treatment."

"What a relief that will be."

"I certainly hope so. Let's begin, shall we?" He spread my knees apart, applied a big glob of KY Jelly to the tip of the vibrator, and switched it on at full speed.

"Carlisle, no!" My warning was too late. Lubricant splattered on the sheets and both of us before he quickly turned it off.

"Whoops!" We were both laughing hysterically as we used the paper robe to clean up the mess.

"You have to turn it on after it's already in! Besides, there's no way I can handle high speed, especially right now. I'm still pretty tingly from that last one. I might just die and go to heaven, even on low."

"Death by orgasm," he laughed. "Sounds like a good way to go!" He lay down next to me, needing some rest from his fit of laughter.

As we lay side by side, I asked, "How many guys have you had on your table who've had heart attacks while they're going at it?"

"Uhhhh…." He snorted. "More than a few over the years."

"Any women?"

He nodded. "They're harder to spot, and less likely to admit it, but… yeah."

"That would be horrifying." I burst into laughter.

"Well, for the ones who don't make it, at least they went out happy!" he grinned.

"Oh, you're awful!" I gasped. Our laughter calmed and we were quiet for a moment.

"This is fun." He turned his head to look at me and flashed his gorgeous smile.

I nodded in agreement, silently meeting his eyes with my own. I caught a glimpse of our past: we were best friends, always laughing… teasing… playful. Could we get back there? I hoped so.

He turned to his side, head propped on his elbow. "You wanna finish up, or are you tired out?"

"Oh, Dr. Cullen, I could never stop now." I ran my fingers along the bare skin exposed between his lapels. "I've been dying to find out what's under this lab coat all night…" I giggled.

He sat back up. "Well, where were we?"

"Covered in goo…" I joked.

He laughed, shook his head, and whispered, "stop it!" under his breath.

"Sorry," I snickered and then bit my lips together to hold in the giggles and the sarcasm. He rose to his feet and bent down to give me a quick kiss.

"Doctor?" he looked up at me, eyebrows raised. I batted my eyes once or twice. "I trust your diagnosis without the ultrasound. I think I'd just like the antidote now, please."

"Are you sure?" He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded. I really did think the vibrator might kill me right now.

"Yes, well… I'm fairly certain that my findings are correct, so it should be all right to forgo that final test." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and began pacing the floor.

"Miss Platt, I'm sorry to inform you that you are suffering from something called _catellus deserta_. It's a fairly common affliction, and not life threatening. However, the course of treatment is fairly rigorous. Many find it very difficult to treat fully," _what the heck is he talking about?_ "but similar to antibiotics, the medicine I'm going to prescribe for you must be applied precisely according to the directions for a full seven days. Even if you're feeling better, it's essential that you complete the full course of treatment. Do you understand?" _7 days of what?_

"Yes, doctor, of course."

"Good." He began unbuttoning his lab coat, but stopped when he got to his waist. _Darn_! "The treatment for _catellus deserta_ is a vaginal cream that must be applied directly to the cervix, using a special applicator."

_My eyes grew wide and my lips curled into a smile as it dawned on me. _"The applicator will deliver a measured dose of the medication each time it's used, so you'll get the proper amount. It is very important that you apply this cream at around the same time each day for seven days in a row. Will your schedule permit for that right now?"

"I believe so, yes." _Hmmm… 7 days in a row? We haven't done that since we were trying to make Baby Emmett._

"Good. Shall we proceed with the first application?" He reached for the remaining buttons on his lab coat, revealing that he wore nothing underneath. _Oooh_!

"Most definitely, Dr. Cullen." I squirmed and gripped the sheets at the sight of his glorious body, standing fully erect. He dropped the coat to the floor, and I licked my lips in anticipation. I've got to be the luckiest girl alive that this gorgeous, sexy doctor is mine and mine alone.

I sighed as he crawled across the bed, not stopping until his body lay atop mine, covering me completely and providing the warmth and weight that I'd been craving. His eyes were sparkling, playful. He hummed slightly and buried his face in my neck where he began nipping and sucking from my jaw to my collarbone, to my shoulder, paying lots of attention to the sweet spot behind my ear.

"I see that the special applicator is primed and ready, doctor." Well, I couldn't actually _see_ it, but I did feel it pressing against my thigh.

He lifted his head with a devious smirk. "It's been ready and waiting all day, Miss Platt," and he ran his length along my folds, coating himself with the wetness that pooled there. After three passes, I just couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.

"Now, doctor. I'm ready for my shot." I reached down to guide him into my opening and reveled in the feeling of Carlisle, sheathed deep inside me with each urgent thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips in rhythm with his. His lips attacked mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth at the same pace as his hips, continuing until he had to release me and gasp for breath.

"Doctor Cullen will take care of you, Baby, your _catellus deserta_." _Oh my_!

"Tell me more, doctor." I unhooked my ankles and placed my feet flat on the bed on either side of him, my knees bent to provide more leverage for thrusting my hips into his. I reached my arms above my head, gripping the bars of the wrought iron headboard.

He grunted Latin medical terms into my ear as he pounded into me over and over and over. I took hold of my knees and held them up, straightening my legs so that my ankles were up around my ears. All those years of dance classes and cheerleading as a kid had made me pretty flexible, and I could still do the splits at 38. Came in very useful in times like this… The new position allowed Carlisle to sink even deeper into me, eliciting moans of pleasure from both of us.

"Mmmmm… faster, doctor. Harder, please." He shifted slightly to gain more leverage and pounded faster, harder, hitting the perfect spot inside me, over and over and over again. "Yes… yes… yes… don't stop… right there… Oh, I'm so close… Oh, yeah…." I released one of my legs and reached down to where we were joined, gathering moisture from our coupling on an outward stroke. I flicked my clitoris with the tip of my middle finger, shuddering each time it caught against my fingernail in a satisfying scratch.

"Oh, yeah, Baby. I love it when you touch yourself." Soon, my muscles clenched, my breathing sped, and I felt the wonderful, familiar tingle begin deep within my pelvis and spread throughout my body. "Ohhhhhhh…." I was coming for a third, magnificent time tonight, digging my nails into Carlisle's ass and pulling him into me as close as we could possibly get. The squeezing of my orgasm triggered his own, and he let out a tantalizing series of grunts, groans, and curses as his whole body tensed and I felt him throbbing deep inside me.

As we lay clinging to each other, catching our breath, I kept feeling him throb. With each twitch, I squeezed my Kegel muscles around him, causing his breath to hitch. It sounded like he had the hiccups, and soon we were both giggling. "Stop tha… hup!"

"Are you finished? I'll stop when you do." I teased.

"Hup… I can't help… hup… it." He snickered and nuzzled into my neck, the twitch-squeeze-hitch pattern slowing. When it finally subsided, he lifted his head and looked into my eyes, resuming character. "All right, Miss Platt, we have successfully applied the first dose. Remember to repeat daily for one week."

It was a very good week. Exhausting, but good.

I snuck the doctor fantasy back into the basket.

* * *

**A/N**

**Check yourself for breast cancer—every month—unless you have a Dr. Carlisle to do it for you. Sadly, I do not.**

**Thanks to Besotted for not letting me take things too far.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review!**

**JEN**


	11. Chapter 10—Bella: Date Night

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 6/20/12. ****Re-posted 1/11/14.**

**Please Review!**

* * *

**Chapter 10—Bella: Date Night**

April 18, 2012 (Wednesday) 

The top was down, the music was on, and we were taking the scenic route to dinner—Highway 101, the Pacific Coast Highway. We crested the hill out of Del Mar to catch our first glimpse of Torrey Pines Beach just as the sun was setting in brilliant hues of yellow, orange, pink, and purple, over the blue of the Pacific and the long white stretch of sand. It took my breath away. It always does.

This spot gets me every time, especially at sunset. It's so beautiful. I turned my eyes to the south to see the tree-covered cliffs of Torrey Pines Nature Reserve looming over the lower part of the beach. Further south where the crescent-shaped coastline curves west, the lights of La Jolla, our dinner destination, just began to twinkle to life for the evening.

As we drove beside the long stretch of beach, Edward took my hand in his, catching the diamond of my engagement ring under his thumb and rotating it back and forth around my finger. I looked over and smiled at him, remembering a previous sunset at this beach.

He'd driven up to the nature reserve and rushed me down one of the trails so that we could claim a bench on the cliff overlooking the beach in time to watch the sky explode into color. I was so mesmerized watching the glowing orange sun descend slowly beyond the liquid blue horizon that I didn't notice Edward had dropped to one knee until he took my hand in both of his.

As my eyes captured Edward kneeling in front of me, I marveled at the sight of him silhouetted against nature's backdrop beyond. I'd never experienced a more beautiful sight, the red and bronze of his hair brought to life by the glowing sun, his hopeful eyes adding brilliant green to the fantastic mix of color in the sky behind him, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing 100 feet below, the occasional call of a seagull flying overhead, and Edward's deep melodic voice declaring his undying love and asking me to spend the rest of forever by his side while sliding the glittering diamond and gleaming band of platinum around my finger. It was magical.

This stretch of road held many memories for us. I wonder if he drove this way on purpose, trying to set a positive mood for what may be a difficult conversation. We passed the beach where he tried to teach me to surf, before learning that I am a terrible klutz with a poor sense of balance; then the cliffs where we got engaged. We climbed a hill and rounded the curve to pass the medical center where Edward works—we were so excited when he got his residency assignment, and later a permanent job offer there, our ticket to a life together in San Diego.

We turned right and drove by the UCSD campus where we met. I was a creative writing and communications undergrad, stumbling toward the coffee cart in need of my morning java. He was a med student hopelessly lost and meandering around the main campus, looking for the registrar's office to solve some glitch. His eyes were on his map when he bumped into me, knocking the backpack off my shoulder.

"I beg your pardon. Are you all right?" his smooth, deep voice soothed. His gentle hands, lifting the strap back onto my shoulder, warmed. His rich green eyes pierced. "I'm so sorry…" his voice trailed off into a whisper.

I blinked away from the trance he put me in. "I'm… fine. You're…" I noticed his map, "… lost?" He rolled his eyes, embarrassed, and nodded with a devastating smirk. He ran a hand through tousled reddish hair and explained that he was more familiar with the med school campus.

I could have pointed him in the right direction and been on my way, but I didn't. I couldn't. I walked him there myself, compelled to spend more time with this boy, this… man who seemed to be kindness and playfulness, good manners and intelligence and wit, a little bit of science geek, and all kinds of sexy, rolled up into one. He introduced himself and compared the bright San Diego sunshine to the overcast skies of his hometown, Seattle.

I could have left him at the building entrance, but I walked through the door he held open and entertained him with stories of incompatibility with my new roommate as we waited in line together. I showed him my favorite restaurant on campus. He bought me a burger and shared memories of his undergraduate and med school years at Stanford. I skipped my marketing class and told him about family and friends I'd left behind in Phoenix as we browsed in the bookstore and discovered a mutual love of reading. He sat through a psyche class with me and we debated the professor's assertions of nature vs. nurture over dinner, punctuated by comparisons between him and his older brother. I invited him to a friend's party where we shared a giant margarita and our first kiss before reluctantly… painfully parting for the night with a promise to meet again the next evening.

From the day we met, we were drawn to each other, inseparable, enthralled. Only now, five years later, the pressures of marriage, mortgage, motherhood and everything else had weakened that bond, severed that once-irresistible connection.

He jogs on that beach while I brush sand out of sippy cups and reapply sunscreen. We last hiked to those cliffs three years ago on our anniversary, when I told him I was pregnant. I've grown to resent that hospital, the source of so much promise and opportunity, for stealing my place as Edward's top priority. And school… _sigh_… it's a wistful memory of idealistic dreams for the future—a happily ever after that's a lot harder in reality than we ever imagined.

Our trip down memory lane turned toward an unknown future as the car veered toward the west and into La Jolla.

We pulled into the parking spot, and as silly as it was, I fretted about holding Edward's hand. I never would have questioned this in the past, but now I do. Thankfully, he grabbed my hand after opening my door for me, a chivalrous act that reminded me so much of the gallant Edward I used to know.

Once we were inside, the hostess seated us, the waitress took our orders (after flirting with Edward), and we sat in awkward silence, neither of us sure what to say to one another. All the old stories have been told. There's nothing new to discover about each other. So now what?

"It's pretty here, isn't it? They have a great view."

"Yeah, gorgeous," I replied, "Alice said the food is good, too."

"Good. It's nice to go somewhere and not have to ask for a high chair."

I chuckled, "It's nice of your parents to watch him…" I bit my lips to silence them and the conversation died. We had agreed not to talk about Riley or Edward's job, so we could focus on US. _What do I say? How do I start? How do we spend these precious few hours of uninterrupted time alone? How do we begin to fix things? _

"So…"

"The drive was nice. It was like… a trip down memory lane or something."

He smiled and nodded in agreement.

"How'd you decide to propose at Torrey Pines?"

Surprised at my question, he stared out the window at the ocean to collect his thoughts. "I knew you liked it there. In all the hundreds of times we drove past that beach, it seemed to affect you every single time. You'd always catch your breath or get a dreamy smile on your face and comment about how pretty it was or say 'THIS is why we came to San Diego' or something like that. I knew it was a place you loved, so I thought it would be a good spot. You still do that, you know."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm. You did it tonight. Plus, I thought that if I asked you there and you said no I could just turn around and jump off the cliff. Put myself out of my misery."

"Edward! You goofball!"

"What, I thought about it!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I said yes."

"Absolutely," he grinned and put a bite in his mouth.

I took a sip of my wine, pensive.

"Do you still think so?" I asked, tentatively.

He choked a little and took a drink of water. "What? Babe! How could you say that?" He furrowed his brow. "Oh my god, do you regret mar…"

"No!... No, I just…" I shook my head, took in some air, and blinked to hold in the tears that prickled my sinuses. I let out the breath I was holding in and started to explain, "It's just…" I pressed my fingers along my temple and then pushed my hair away from my face.

"When we were driving by school I was just thinking about the first day we met…" He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed in front of his chest. "We were so drawn to each other. I didn't want to stop talking to you, or looking at you, or hearing your voice, or just being near you. I couldn't have pulled myself away from you if I'd tried. And I could tell you felt the same way about me." He leaned forward, smiled, and nodded in agreement. "But now," I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly, "I don't know where those feelings could have gone or how they could have changed so drastically. Or why. But…"

I sniffled. "We were SO strong, Edward, from the very first moment. What's happened to us? We don't talk, we don't touch, we don't usually even say goodnight. Sometimes I wonder if you even love me anymore?" I buried my face in my hands, trying to hide my tears.

He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, "Hey… Bell… Babe… Look at me." I looked up into his cloudy eyes and sniffled. He smiled softly, "You know I love you. I could never stop."

My eyes dropped to a spot on his shoulder and I swallowed a sob that threatened to emerge as my hand clenched the napkin in my lap. _No, I don't_ _know that. Not anymore._

"What, you doubt me?"

"No," I looked into his eyes again before looking quickly away and shifting in my seat. "It's like we said the other night, though. It's not black and white—you're in love and then you're not. It fades. So, yes, you say you love me, but your actions…" I shook my head. "I don't know. You've just had a funny way of showing it lately."

A frown overcame his face and he nodded, abashed. "Yeah, maybe." Then he got defensive. "But it's not like I haven't tried."

I straightened my shoulders and sat up tall. "I know. I guess I haven't been much better," I admitted, my hands surrendering in front of me.

I sighed, defeated, and dropped my elbows to the table, covering my face. I rested my chin on my hand and started chewing on a fingernail. He sat slumped against the booth, tracing patterns in the droplets that had condensed on his water glass. We both happened to glance up and held each other's grim gaze for a few seconds.

I sat up and watched my hands as I wrung them on the table in front of me. I was nervous. I was scared. I didn't want to bring it up, but I had to know. I had to ask. It had been gnawing a hole in my gut all week, since I'd seen them. The smile, the hug… oh, god, what did it mean? I had to ask.

I struggled to find the right words, words a mature adult would use rather than the vitriol of a jealous teenage girlfriend that my emotions urged me to spit at him. He looked at me. I looked at my plate and toyed with my fork. I wouldn't have the courage if I saw his eyes. "Is there anything going on between you and Leah Clearwater?"

That got his attention. He leaned toward me, a staggered look on his face. "What? Are you serious?" I bristled.

"Leah's my friend, my colleague," he insisted.

"_I'm_ supposed to be your friend, Edward. Your best friend. But I get the feeling that she knows a lot more about what's going on with you lately than I do."

"Bella, don't be absurd. We talk mostly about the politics and nonsense that goes on at work. I try not to bring that stupid stuff home with me. You don't want to hear about all that crap." _Nice of him to decide that for me._

"I want to know _you_ and what's going on with _you_." I looked into his eyes and took a deep breath for bravery. "I saw you with her the other day, you know." He tilted his head, wondering when and what I was talking about.

"Last week when you worked the overnight and I brought you food? I was there." I sighed and twisted my napkin. "I thought you might want some company for dinner but while I was waiting for Julie to get off the phone so I could ask her to page you, I saw you. You and Leah. You were laughing and hugging." I looked at him wistfully. "And I wished it were me."

I crossed my arms turned my head sideways and shook it _no, no, no_, as I looked at the ceiling willing myself to keep the tears that pooled in my eyes from spilling out. I was hurt, I was angry, I was… god, I don't know what all I was, but I hated looking weak, feeling scorned, being thrust into this stereotypical role of the clueless, jilted wife.

It had always been my biggest fear in marrying him. The one chink in my confidence: that he would find someone more equal to him, someone who shared a background closer to his own, and trade up. I was probably making something out of nothing, but…

"Bella… Oh my god… Do you think… Do you think I'm screwing around? How could you… What the hell, Bella?" He gasped, flabbergasted by that assumption. Leaning back in his seat, scrubbing a hand through his hair, he blew out a big breath and looked at me, eyes narrowed, lips in a tight line, and jaw clenched as his head shook in disbelief. "She had just told me that she and Seth are pregnant. Finally. It's been a long and difficult road for them. _That's_ what the hug was for."

I let out a sigh of relief, and then was overcome with shame.

His face bore a look of contempt. "I was happy for her… them… whatever! I invited them to Riley's party so they could get a taste of what's to come. I was also thinking it might be nice to get to know them better, outside of work. We don't have that many couple friends." He shrugged.

"Bella, how could you accuse me of that? Do you really think so little of me? That I would cheat on you? Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

"No. I didn't think you would, deep down. But it just looked so bad. And things between us lately have been so…"

He nodded slightly.

"The look on your face with her, Edward. You looked so happy… content. I haven't seen you look like that for a long time. Not with me, anyway and I… My mind just…" I squeezed my fingertips together next to my temple and then splayed them out like an explosion.

"Bell, she's _just_ a friend. We talk about work stuff and marathon stuff. She confided in me about the infertility about a year ago when I called her out for acting a little off one day at work. But mostly it's just crazy, stupid, stressful work stuff that I don't want to bring home with me. Jeez!"

He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "I've got enough to deal with at home…"

"What? What did you say? You have to _deal _with me?" I covered my mouth with my hand and a loud sob escaped.

He huffed in annoyance. "Bella, I didn't say that. I was referring to the fact that I work _all_ day and sometimes all night. When I come home I have to walk on a 2x8 to get to my front door and when I come in, half the rooms are so empty they echo and the other half are a mess. Then, before I even get a chance to sit down and take my shoes off, you hand me a screaming toddler and growl at me to take him because you have to cook dinner.

God, I have no… downtime. The only place I can feel any sense of peace or calm to try to get past my day is if I go for a run or try to sit down and play the piano for a while which, of course, makes you accuse me of 'running away.' So, yeah, there's a lot of crap to deal with."

He scoffed. "You know, I advise my patients to reduce stress in their lives, but I can't seem to escape it in my own life. Not at work, not at home, not anywhere."

"And what about me? You think it's all fun and games for me? What about my downtime, Edward? When do I get to do something fun or relaxing by myself? Because I don't recall having the opportunity to decompress, either. Maybe if we just made more of an effort to talk to each other, we could…"

Edward interrupted. "You say you want me to talk to you, Bella, but your actions shut me out. There's always something more important than me—something more urgent: the baby or the phone or dinner on the stove. And the times you do bother to talk to me, it's because you're pissed off about something. Always so… negative."

As he spoke, my jaw clenched tighter and tighter. My lips pressed into a straight line. My brows furrowed. He let out a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair before leaning toward me and softening his tone. "You're never happy anymore, Bella. I just want to…"

I glanced at the tables around us, confirming that I couldn't explode. Instead, I leaned toward him and hissed out words just above a whisper. My clenched fists rested on the tablecloth with my nails digging into my palms. "Of course I'm unhappy. You don't even _like_ me anymore. You're always mad at me. I can't do anything right in your eyes. Maybe I avoid talking to you because I can't take all the criticism. There's no way to stay on top of everything. The things I do manage to do are never good enough, so why should I even bother trying to live up to your impossible standards? We're not all perfect like you, Edward. Some of us are… mortal." I sat back against my seat and brushed my hair away from my face, scowling.

"And apparently you didn't notice that the 2x8 has been gone for three weeks. I made sure they finished the walkways in time for the party. You're telling me YOU feel tense around that house? Try being stuck there all the time. I have to put up with the noise, the backhoe digging all day long, the skeevy workmen right outside my windows, blaring their radio station and dropping their cigarette butts everywhere. While inside I get to deal with temper tantrums and poopy diapers and all that friggin' dust. At least you get to escape to work where you're surrounded by adults who respect you."

He scoffed.

"Don't you laugh at me. Until you walk away from the career you've worked so hard for, you'll never know what it's like. Yeah, I used to be happy. I used to have a job I loved, that I was really good at, that gave me a sense of accomplishment. I earned my own money. I had friends there. I had a husband who loved me and showed me some god-damned affection once in awhile. Even when he'd worked three days straight and was exhausted he'd hold me and kiss me and ask me about my day," I recalled, wistfully.

"And we had a cute little condo that was cozy and full of mismatched furniture and was so tiny it could be cleaned in an hour. It wasn't fancy, but it was 'us'. I had a great life. I'd worked so hard for it, waited so long for it. And two years into it, I walked away. Willingly. I know it's a privilege to be able to stay home, and I shouldn't complain. Riley's worth the sacrifice. But I had NO IDEA when I left my job that I'd be losing all the rest, too. That was NOT part of the bargain.

My whole… life. My sense of self worth, my friends, my husband, my home. I feel like I don't even matter anymore."

He sighed, defeated, and shook his head in tiny movements back and forth, a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I just don't get it, Bella. Or you just don't get me. Everything I do is for you. For you and Riley. I've been trying so hard to reach this goal that we hit last week…"

"The one you didn't tell me anything about even though you've been working on it for half your life? Jeez, Edward. I mean, a twenty year project? Your dad's lifelong dream? God! That was something huge in your life, something really important. And the fact that I knew nothing about it screams that our relationship is just… dead. " I looked at him and bit my lip to keep it from trembling as I tried to sniff away more impending tears.

"I talk about it all the time! Maybe you haven't been listening. God, it's my singular focus. Isn't it obvious? The study, the project, Dr. Snow, Dr. Jenks, my dad, the research. None of this sounds familiar?"

Disparate pieces fell into place. "Those are all the same thing?" I felt like an idiot for not connecting the dots before. I'd always felt like he was sharing tiny bits and pieces about what he does. If they were all pieces of the same project then…

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Then he looked me straight in the eye and answered bluntly, "Yes. It didn't have a name until last week. Jenks' marketing group is in charge of branding it, but the idiots couldn't seem to agree on anything until the last minute. But, yes, it's all one thing. Always has been." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Anyway, my point is that I've been working my tail off to reach this breakthrough because hopefully it will bring me a promotion and a raise and some recognition. Major recognition-the kind that will give us security in the long run.

It's all been for you, Bella. Everything. So that you will never again have to feel the upheaval and uncertainty that you did growing up with your mom. So that Riley will never have to experience anything like that. So that you can have the life that…"

"That's more like yours?"

He looked hurt. "The life you deserve, Bella. A safe neighborhood, a nice house with room for your books and a kitchen that you love, good schools, the option of leaving your job to raise our kids. I even tried to make some new friends for us, but that backfired, obviously."

"All I've ever wanted to do is provide for you, to keep you safe and happy. It just kills me that I've… failed. I guess the things I've tried to do for you just haven't been the things that you want. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath and stared into space.

We were both kind of dazed and numb. "I'm not good at failure, Bella. I don't like not being able to control things around me. I guess maybe that's why I shut down my emotions around you. I reverted back into the introverted science geek that I was before I met you. That guy who doesn't talk to anybody.

I need you back. Happy again. I don't know if you even realize it, but you make me a better person, so much better. From the very beginning, the first day, you pulled me out of that isolation. You gave me confidence. I've lost that."

He ran his hands through his hair. "God, what can I do? You tell me. How can I make you happy? 'Cause it sounds like you're saying that you'd be happier without me."

"What? No! What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Your job, your money, your friends, your sense of self worth, your… whole life." He sniffed. "How am I supposed to react to that? What is it that you want? Because it sounds like I've ruined your life and you'd be better off without me."

I was stunned into silence. Each of my own words that he lobbed back at me hit like a brick, pounding me with shame and regret. _Oh my god, he's leaving me_.

Tears sprung to my eyes. My heart raced. My thoughts jumped through split-second images of memories and dreams, good times and bad. Flashes of our life together. Everything I'd lose if I lost him.

A picture of his parents—the perfect happy couple—popped into my consciousness and I grabbed hold and focused on that image for a moment. _No dumping, she'd advised. Put him first_.

I imagined us at their age, sitting at his piano as he played Claire de Lune, the song he'd chosen the first time he played for me on the night I knew that he was the one. I had sat next to him, amazed at the beauty that emanated from his fingertips. "I think I'm falling for you," he'd said as the song ended, beating me to the very words I'd felt. "I've never felt like this before." He fidgeted nervously. We'd only known each other a few weeks. "I'm pretty sure that I want to see you walking toward me in a white dress someday. And holding a green eyed baby in your arms. I'd like to see you with streaks of silver in your hair and look into your eyes as I take my last breath." I'd looked up into his eyes which bore into my own with intensity, conviction, and a slight tinge of fear. "You make me a better person, Bella, and I want to be that person, always."

His words had struck me into silence. I'd absorbed them for a moment and realized that I'd like those things, too. "Swans mate for life, you know," I'd warned him. My dad never had gotten over my mom, even after she left him. And I had a feeling I'd never get over Edward Cullen.

"So do Cullens," he'd promised.

I was pulled from the memory by the tinkling strains of the very notes I'd been thinking about. Claire de Lune played through the restaurant sound system. I looked into his eyes as he waited expectantly for a response. Tears trailed down my cheeks, landing in dark spots on the tablecloth and as I looked down at them I noticed a few of his fingers playing along with the music. I wondered if he was visiting the memory I'd just left.

I began to twist the ring around my fourth finger. The diamond had always been bigger than I'd wanted—ostentatious, I thought—but I realized in that moment that everything about Edward was bigger, brighter than I was accustomed to: his talents, his success, his house, his love. Part of the problem was that I'd been drowning in it, feeling smaller and smaller. Lost.

But was I ready to give up his larger-than-life world altogether so that I could shrink back to my own comfortable, diminutive one, or could I adjust to it, embrace it, support it and pull him back down to size when he needed it?

I began to slowly shake my head, "no." My eyes travelled slowly back up to his face, stopping when they met his clouded green orbs.

"I could never be better off without you, Edward. I love you, and whether or not it seems like it, I love you more today than the day I married you. But I want _you_ back. I want to be your friend and your confidante. I want you to love me again. I need to feel important. I don't want an out, Edward, I want to find my way back in. Please don't ever think that. Swans mate for life, remember?" I reached for his hand across the table.

He let out the breath he'd been holding—a sigh of relief—and nodded his head as he took my hand. "So do Cullens," he promised, swiping at the single drop that fell from his eye.

"But we're never going to be the same people we were then. We've grown up."

"Well, we need to figure out who we are now and who we're going to be so that we never slip into this mess again."

"Yeah. We do."

After a few shuddering breaths he composed himself and grabbed for the leather folder our waitress had silently left on the table, scribbling his name on the credit card receipt. "Let's get outta here," he urged, pulling me into a hug before guiding me to the exit, ever the gentleman with a hand on my back. "I love you, Bella," he whispered into my ear. "We'll fix this, I promise."

It was almost closing time and our waitress stood with another at a table near the door, refilling salt shakers and sugar dishes. "Major fight at table 17 tonight," she gossiped to her friend. "Like, divorce material fight. I think she caught him cheating."

"Really?" Her friend urged her on.

"He was gorgeous, too. They both were. You know, one of those couples that looks so perfect that you're almost glad to find out they have the same problems as everybody else."

The friend giggled, "If she dumped him, maybe he'll be looking for a rebound."

Edward cleared his throat, distracting them from their gossip. As our waitress turned and saw us, her face dropped into a sheepish frown.

"No rebound will be necessary, thanks," Edward warned, "but a little discretion would be appreciated."

"I'm so sorry, sir. I…"

"It's fine. Listen, I wanted to apologize for holding up your table all night. I know you probably lost out on a lot of tips because of us, so…" He handed her a folded hundred dollar bill.

She gasped and looked up at us. "Sir, I can't…"

Edward held up his hand. "Please… It's fine." He turned and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, guiding me toward the door. "It's cheaper than a marriage counselor," he muttered.

Instead of exiting toward our car, he turned toward the water, where we could continue our discussion with a moonlit walk along the beach.

I called home to check in with Esme and beg for more time. "Of course, Hon. Riley is great. Grandma and Grandpa had so much fun with him tonight. We just put him down for the night, so take as much time as you need. Are you two having a good talk?"

"Um, yeah. We're not quite ready to come home. We've got a lot more to talk about."

"Oh, good. I'm glad."

"Thanks a lot for watching him and for all your advice."

"Anytime, Sweetheart. We'll just plan to see you in the morning when we all get up."

"K. Thanks."

Edward and I both spoke freely in the uninterrupted privacy away from the restaurant and without the time constraint, admitting that we both wanted to—needed to work hard to reestablish trust and communication and fall back in love.

We were able to learn a lot about each other. I hadn't realized how much pressure he put on himself to be successful for the sake of Riley and me. It wasn't all personal ambition, like I'd thought. He really believed that working harder and longer and making more money was the best way to take care of us. _Huh_…

He had no idea how overwhelmed and alone I felt in our big, cavernous, impersonal house. He'd heard my complaints, but tonight I helped him understand their basis: With no family nearby and no close friends, the loss of my comfortable little cocoon of a condo had been an unbearable shock. The neighbors and playgroup moms I'd met in our new neighborhood seemed so false and superficial to me, showing off their fancy houses and jewelry.

Edward was surprised. There'd been such a crowd at Riley's party, he'd thought that I had lots of good friends. I explained that I felt I didn't belong here and Edward's cold detachment had made me feel even more lonely and unlovable than I already was.

Making friends with Alice recently had been a blessing. And Esme's help decorating the house to make it more homey and personal was helping a lot. But I needed him, too, more than anything else. I needed my other half.

He promised to reclaim his status as my best friend by opening up to me again, listening more, and cutting back on his criticism about the house. I promised to take his requests to get it decorated and presentable a bit more seriously and stop being so stubborn.

I learned that Edward faced a significant amount of peer pressure from the other doctors at work. I had no idea how important their status symbols were for fitting in and getting ahead. The cars, the trips, the country club memberships, the vacation homes in Hawaii or Big Bear, the exclusive private schools they sent their kids to as soon as they turned three, the shopping sprees and plastic surgery they "complained" about their wives demanding, and the houses. Oh, the houses.

There was so much pressure and one-upmanship about having a house befitting a successful, elite M.D. at the renowned Scripps Greene Hospital. Size, location, amenities, décor, art, ocean view were all compared and scrutinized. He made these doctors sound worse than the catty women I faced at playgroup. The stakes were certainly higher. And the price tags…

His description of them explained a lot about why he'd wanted our house so badly, and why he put so much pressure on me to get it looking perfect. He warned me apologetically that he'd been asked several times when we'd be having everyone over for a housewarming party.

"Maybe we can bring the backhoe again, to shovel up all my colleagues' bulls-"

I laughed, happy to have lighthearted Edward back with me. But then my thoughts turned serious. "Edward, we both need to stop letting these people who we don't even like control us."

I pointed from him to me and back. "This needs to be the most important thing. The only thing." He agreed and we talked a lot about what was most important to us. What _we_ wanted out of life.

It was getting too cold and dark to walk along the beach, so we found a place to stop in for a drink. Edward scooted into the booth right next to me instead of across the table, sitting so close our legs pressed against each other. He lifted his arm around my shoulders and ran his fingers through my hair. I put my hand on his thigh and leaned my head on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness I'd been missing so desperately. We could have talked all night, but we needed to get home to bed. He had to work early in the morning.

"Just promise me that you're still going to be acting like this tomorrow? Tell me I'm not going to wake up and find that tonight was just a dream," I implored.

"I swear," he held up his little finger, hooking it around mine to seal the agreement. He used it to pull my hand to his chest and placed his hand over mine that covered his heart. "Let's never go back to that, ok?" We both knew that it would be a long, hard road, but tonight had been a good start.

"Deal." He leaned in to kiss me gently on the lips. Gentle kisses gave way to passionate ones, and soon he had to push himself away from me, breathless. "We'd better go."

At home I headed straight for the stairs, but he pulled my hand toward the front of the house where his piano sat, gleaming in the moonlight. He sat down and played our song as I stood behind him, watching his fingers dance over the keys as I massaged his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

When the song was over I leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Right now, right here, you make me so happy, Edward Cullen." He turned sideways on the bench, pulling me around to face him as he wrapped his arms around my hips and buried his face against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, took his hands, and led him upstairs.

My eyes drifted toward Riley's room. The mom in me wanted to check on him, but I turned toward our suite instead. Edward came first.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Edward wrapped me in his arms, nuzzling his face in my hair. We stumbled awkwardly to the bedroom, unwilling to let go of each other. We dropped our clothes on the floor and snuggled on the bed, curled against each other, legs entwined. His slow, sensual kisses covered my face, my neck, my arms, my hands, and warmed my soul.

It had been so long since I'd felt so loved, so cherished. I returned his love, covering my husband with gentle kisses and caresses as the soft strains of DeBussy played over and over in my mind. He pulled me close and murmured in my ear, "I need you."

His hand moved to my breast, thumb brushing the tip, causing it to harden. As he moved his mouth to suckle, his hands drifted toward my panties. I grabbed his wrist, and returned his confused look with one of regret, hating to remind him that it wasn't a good time for me.

I reached between our bellies and stroked him over his underwear in a silent offer to take care of him. He hissed slightly, trying to stifle his reaction as he placed his finger over my lips and shook his head. "Shh. I need you, Bella. That doesn't matter."

He replaced his fingers with his soft lips, cupping my face tenderly and preventing further objections with slow, open-mouthed kisses. When he came up for air, I excused myself to the bathroom, promising to come right back.

I returned with a towel and some damp wash cloths, finding that he'd turned down the covers and lit a dim light. I admired the way he looked in his boxer briefs as he leaned over the bed to spread the towel and wrapped my arms around him from behind as he stood up, placing a kiss on his back and holding him tight, my cheek against his spine.

He spun around to face me and rocked us back and forth in his embrace, slow dancing to the tune of our thoughts. "I love you, Bella. So much." I nodded, head on his shoulder, too emotional to speak. He tried to apologize, but I drowned his words with a kiss as my hands smoothed over his back. I'd had enough talking for the night and just needed to feel.

We stood holding each other, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, breath to breath, until we felt we were one. My fingers slipped under his waistband to feel the curve of his backside and he mirrored my action as I slid his underwear to the floor before he gently lowered me to the bed.

Edward combed his fingers through my hair and rolled half on top of me to deliver a single deep, wet kiss. I smiled against his lips and wrapped my arms around his neck, happy to have my husband back, happy for us. We gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, his finger caressing the curve of my ear; mine combing the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Oh, Isabella, how did I ever get so lucky?" Smiling, I grasped his shoulder and pulled him on top of me, relishing the warmth of his skin on mine, the security of his weight covering me.

"You're so precious," he murmured, leaning closer to kiss my temple. "You're all I've ever wanted, all that I'll ever need." I widened my knees and shifted my hips to position him at my entrance. "Ohhhhh," he moaned as he slowly pushed inside me.

"Ahhhh," I sighed, feeling him fill me, inch by inch. We both paused, clinging to each other, eyes closed, with him fully seated inside me.

After a few stuttering breaths, I opened my eyes to find his clouded with emotion. He touched his forehead to mine and retreated slowly, pulling almost all the way out. He sucked in a sharp breath and pressed back in gradually, whispering "Oh, my Bella," as a crease formed between his brows.

I watched him, trance-like, smoothing my hands along his back, his sides, his broad shoulders, as he slowly made love to me, whispering sweet words with each meeting of our hips. I wished I could stay there forever with him.

"Can you feel it, too?" he asked, breathlessly. I was too overcome to respond with more than a nod and a whimper. This was special. This was so much more than just sex—more than a physical connection. Together we were letting go of the hurt and anger, pushing aside the misunderstanding and fear that tugged at the seams of our marriage.

Together we were building something stronger, weaving a blanket of love and commitment to wrap ourselves in, to protect our love from the forces that tried to pull us apart, even when those forces faced us in the mirror.

Edward took my hand as it wiped away a tear. "Don't cry, my love," he breathed between slow thrusts. He brought my dampened finger to his lips, surprising me by pulling it inside his mouth.

He released my knuckle after swirling his tongue around a few times and guided it between our slowly writing bodies. With his hand atop mine, I found the spot, he gave the pressure and speed to build a fire inside me, to ignite flames that warmed me from within and to set off an explosion of bliss which pushed his body to climax moments later, leaving us trembling in each others' arms, trying to catch our breath.

We lay together, still connected for several minutes, absorbing all that had passed between us that night. I began to feel a chill from our cooling sweat, and reached for the towels I'd brought to clean us up.

I was loathe for our lovemaking to end, fearing the loss of our newfound connection. "Thank you, Bella. I love you. I won't let you down again," Edward reassured me. As our bodies separated I knew that our hearts were still connected.

I came back to bed after cleaning up and checking on Riley and snuggled in next to him.

"Edward?" I asked, pulling the covers over us.

"Hmm?" I could tell he was almost asleep. The man could fall asleep in seconds and was completely oblivious to noise, light, or other distractions once he was out. It was a skill he'd picked up by necessity during his residency.

"Thanks for tonight, for everything." I whispered in his ear. "I love you."

"Mmm… You too." He pulled me against his chest and was out for the night.

The next morning, I blinked my eyes open to find Edward, kneeling next to my side of the bed. He kissed my forehead, ran his fingers through my hair, and murmured,

"Don't wake up, Babe, it's only 5:00. I just wanted to kiss you goodbye and let you know that last night wasn't a dream."

I closed my eyes and smiled. "Mmmm, good… thanks!"

"I love you."

"Love you too. Have a good day." I yawned. "Are you at the conference again?"

"Yeah, but I need to go in to the hospital first, so I have to get going. Love you. Bye," and he was gone.

I got another hour of sleep before Master Riley climbed into my bed, chattering all about what he did with his grandparents the night before. _Ugh. Time to start another day_. At least I could smell coffee already brewing downstairs.

I snuggled my little guy close to me and smelled his sweet baby smell. It calmed us both down and bought me ten more minutes of quiet, which I used to reflect on all that Edward and I had talked about last night. I smiled, hopeful for a happier future.

Carlisle attended the conference again that day, too, so Esme and I visited some furniture stores on Miramar Rd. in the morning and then took Riley to story hour at the library. I sat with him in the children's section while Esme browsed the grown-up part of the library.

We listened to the librarian read the week's selection of books with animated voices for each of the characters. Since Father's Day was coming up, the theme seemed to be daddy sea creatures and their kids. After the books and couple of songs, we moved to the tables and worked on a craft—a paper fish with a string attached to its mouth that Riley scribbled on with crayons. The string ran through a drinking straw, so you could cast the fishing line out or pull on it to reel the fish in. Very cute.

We shared a table with the cutest little Asian boys—identical twins—who looked to be about Riley's age, and were teaching him the two "M" words—Me and Mine. _Great_!

"How old are they?" I asked their harried mother, who was visibly pregnant.

"They're 28 months and they think they own the world. Want one?" she joked.

I laughed. "Riley just turned two, so I guess he's not far behind them. Nice to know what's coming up. I can't imagine him, times two!"

"They're a handful, that's for sure… Joshua, we don't eat the crayons. Take it out of your mouth, please… I'm Angela Chen-Yee, by the way. We just moved here recently from Washington State. My husband started working for Qualcomm."

"Really? Well, welcome to San Diego! I'm Bella Cullen… What a nice purple fish, Riley. Let's cut him out now so we can put him on the fishing pole. Here you go... Where in Washington are you from? My husband grew up in Seattle."

"He did? We just moved from there! What a small world. I met my husband at U-Dub and we've lived in Seattle since college. I actually grew up in a little town called Forks about four hours from Seattle on the peninsula, though."

Esme had joined us, "Oh, you're from Forks? Do you know Joe Newton? I went to high school with him."

"Angela, this is my mother-in-law, Esme Cullen. Esme, this is Angela and her boys are Joshua and…" I couldn't remember the second twin's name. "Ok, Ri. Let's attach your fish to the fishing pole."

"Joshua and Isaac." She pointed them out as she called their names.

They chatted about Washington for awhile. "How long have you been in San Diego?" Esme asked.

"Monday will be a month. I still have lots of unpacking to do, but I have to get them out of the house once in awhile or we'll all go crazy!"

"Do you live around here? We're in a playgroup that meets on Tuesdays at Community Park. You should join us!"

"I'd love that."

We chatted some more as the kids finished their projects, and exchanged phone numbers so we could get together. Angela seemed very down to earth and… normal. I was glad to meet someone I connected with who had kids Riley's age, and looked forward to getting to know her better.

"She seems like a nice girl," Esme said after Angela and her boys left, "She's got her hands full, doesn't she?"

"Really! And another one coming soon. Wow, she's brave."

"My girlfriend Carmen has three kids—not twins, but three. I was always in awe of how she handled it all. Her husband traveled all the time for work, too, poor thing! We used to swap babysitting every other week for date nights. It was really loud when all five kids were together!"

"That's a good idea. How long did you do the swap?"

"I wish we'd started much sooner. Her youngest was almost a year old—I think Edward was about six or seven—and we kept it going pretty regularly until the kids were old enough to watch themselves. We started it when I was in the 'relationship repair' mode with Carlisle. It really helped to have some time to spend alone with him."

"Hmm…"

"Speaking of which, I picked out some books you might like. These are some that I found helpful in getting things back on track for us. This one is more recent," she held up _The 5 Love Languages_, "but I've read it and it's great. The pastor who took over at Trinity when Carlisle's dad retired makes all of his brides and grooms read it before he'll marry them. Anyway, I'm not trying to butt in, but they were helpful for me, so…"

"Thanks, Esme, I'll check them out."

"I also picked up a couple of design books that you could look through for ideas for the house. Since we finished the home office on this trip, what do you say we tackle the master suite next? I can't wait to help make it a beautiful, romantic getaway for you two."

I blushed at what she was insinuating. "Oh, Esme, thank you so much! You have no idea how much I appreciate all your help. I hate that you're working when you're on vacation. But…"

"Honey, it's nothing! It's something I love to do, especially for you two, so it's not like working at all."

"Actually, though… I'd love to do the bedroom, but Edward mentioned that people at work are wondering when we'll be having them over for a housewarming party, so he'd really like to get the more public areas downstairs finished. Do you think we could finish the dining room first?"

"Of course! That will be easy. He's feeling the pressure, huh, the one-upmanship?"

I nodded, "Did Carlisle get that, too?"

Esme sighed and rolled her eyes, "Still does. It's awful. And it doesn't get any better as time passes. These guys have so much and they just goad each other into getting more, more, more and showing it off to everyone. There's not a month that goes by without one of Carlisle's partners hosting a dinner party to show off some new art or a giant flatscreen, or inviting the guys out on a new boat or up to their ski cabin or whatever. I'm sorry to hear that Edward's coworkers are following the same pattern."

"He talked a lot about that last night. How there's so much pressure… It helped me understand some of the things he does a little better."

"I'm so glad you had a good long talk. I hope you can keep those lines of communication open for each other."

I smiled.

"As for the pressure to entertain and show off your latest and greatest, one thing I figured out that helps is to pick an event or two, or maybe something quarterly, it depends on your group of people, and make those your signature events. For us, everyone in Carlisle's group knows that the Cullens host the annual Back to School BBQ in August, and the Valentine's spa day for the wives, so they're not constantly prodding us to host something else."

"You host something just for the wives?"

"Oh yes! It's actually a lot of fun. There are a handful of the ladies who just like to get together to gossip and boast, but most of the partner's wives have become really good friends over the years. We all get together at my house on Valentine's Day morning. I hire someone to give massages, someone to do our nails, an aesthetician to give facials, and of course Shelly comes over with her Passionista stuff. And we have champagne and chocolate—lots of chocolate! The guys love it, too, because the girls come home relaxed and happy and ready to really celebrate Valentine's Day."

"That sounds fun"

"It is. Anyway, back to the house. We can finish the dining room up pretty quickly and get you ready to host a housewarming party. You do such a great job with your parties, Bella."

"Thanks. Kids parties are fun to plan. We'll see how I do with events for grown ups!"

"You'll do great! So, take a look through these books and the magazines you get at home and note what you like in dining rooms and in bedrooms. Have Edward do the same and we'll come up with something that you both love."

"I can't wait!"

"I'm not sure when we'll be back again, but we could do a lot by phone and email." That reminded me that she and Carlisle would be leaving tomorrow and made me sad and a little apprehensive.

"Do you have to go?" I pouted. We'd grown so close during this trip. Would I be able to manage everything I was going through with Edward without her to lean on?

* * *

**A/N **

**That's halfway through, my friends! The later chapters tend to be longer, like this one. And Esme & Carlisle will be heading home soon. That should satisfy those of you who feel there's too much Esme/not enough Bella.**

**For those of you who don't know Spanish, La Jolla is pronounced "La Hoya."**

**Big Bear is a beautiful little town in the mountains about 4 hours from San Diego. There's a lake and ski resorts for year round fun. Many Southern Californians have vacation homes there (or rent cabins for weekend getaways.)**

**_The 5 Love Languages_ by Dr. Gary Chapman is a great relationship book. Read It! Have your spouse read it! A lot of Esme's advice is borrowed from there.**

**This chapter was so hard to get right. Besotted deserves to be named as a co-author on this one, seriously! She never lets me take the easy or trite way out. We owe a lot of Bella & Edward's depth to her. Many thanks!**

**And many thanks to you for reading! Please leave me a note to let me know what you thought.**

**Jen**


	12. Chapter 11—Esme: Valentine's Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 6/27/12. ****Re-posted 1/18/14.**

**Please Review!**

* * *

**Chapter 11—Esme: Valentine's Day**

February 1991

_I hope I didn't miss too much_, I thought as I rushed from the first grade hallway to Emmett's fifth grade classroom. The boys' school scheduled all parties on Fridays and both of their teachers had chosen the same time for their Valentine's celebrations. Edward's class had a lot of fun playing Bingo with Conversation Heart markers and decorating heart shaped cookies with frosting and red sprinkles. It was cute. Messy, but cute.

As I hurried to catch the second half of Em's party, I hoped I hadn't missed seeing them distribute their Valentine cards. I had noticed Emmett making an extra special, handmade card for a girl in his class. He taped twice as much candy on it and signed it 'Love, Emmett' instead of just scribbling his name at the bottom like he did for his other classmates. I couldn't wait to see how it all played out. I hoped she'd be kind and not break his little 10 year old heart.

I realized that I probably wouldn't get to witness many more moments like this with Emmett. They won't have parties for me to plan or art classes for me to teach in middle school next fall and he's starting to feel the need for more privacy.

Last week I walked into his room to put away some laundry and he got so upset. "Mom, I'm in my underwear!" he complained, quickly pulling on his pajamas. _Oops!_ We had a talk about keeping your door closed and knocking first.

What a contrast to Eddie-Bear, who still wants me to give him a bath and sit by the tub reading aloud while he splashes with his toys!

After Em's party, where I witnessed the adorable interaction between Emmett and his first crush, it hit me: _What am I going to do when they don't need me so much anymore?_

I had never imagined that my life would be so focused on my children. When I was young and working in Laurent's gallery, I saw myself as a lifelong career woman, a mover and shaker in the Seattle art community. I vaguely thought of having a child someday—maybe two if it didn't disrupt my life too much—but that would just be a bump in the road, a few months or maybe a year off before I was back to real life.

And then I had Emmett and my whole world changed. No, it didn't simply change, it ground to a halt and started spinning the other way on its axis, so radically did my thinking change. I looked down one day at this tiny creature that Carlisle and I had somehow, by some miracle from God created out of nothing but our love for each other, and I knew I couldn't leave him.

I watched that day, so soon after he was born, as he squirmed and accidentally separated from my breast with a little pop. His tiny hands patted their objection against me. His mouth opened wide, seeking what he'd lost. After just a few seconds, he found my nipple again and latched back on with a baby grunt, sucking quickly, eagerly, voraciously, desperate to restore his world to its proper balance. _I_ was that world to him.

Once nourishment and comfort were securely re-established, he looked up at me. His round grey eyes that hadn't yet turned blue were hooded and almost drunk looking with relief. Milk pooled at the corners of his tiny mouth as his tongue lapped and his toothless jaws suckled, urging the tingling response in my body to let down the milk that was his sole source of nourishment and growth and survival.

I knew at that moment that the nanny we'd hired to care for Emmett when I returned to work the following month could never provide my young son with all that I could, no matter how caring and loving and experienced she was with infants.

No. Just… NO!

Carlisle was supportive. He'd wanted me to stay home for at least a year all along.

And so my life made an abrupt U-turn, and here I am a full decade later. The kids are my world—them and the house. Or rather I should say, _Carlisle_ and the kids and the house—I've got to remember to think of him first. The kids won't be around forever.

Anyway, the only thing resembling a 'job' that I do is volunteering for the school and a lot of that will go away next fall when Emmett starts middle school. In four years, Edward will be there, too. Then, pretty soon they'll be driving and they won't even need me to taxi them around anymore. Then they'll go off to college and be gone. Gone for good.

Oh my god! What am I going to do? I don't see myself as a society lady, sitting on boards and planning fundraisers like Kate does, so I suppose I should think about going back to work. Could I even make it in a job like my old one? Could an almost 40 year old who hasn't worked in a decade break back into the youth-worshipping art scene? I've lost touch with all the people I knew back then. I have no idea how to use the new technology that's out there now. I have this beeper from Carlisle, but I've never used email, never sent a fax. Jeez…

I pulled into the driveway of my friend Kate's new house and took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. _Stop freaking out, Es! OK…_ I stepped out of my car and knocked on the front door of her beautiful new home, ready for a tour.

"Oh, Kate, I love your new place. Just look at this view. I can imagine the two of you sitting here in matching club chairs," I gestured the way I would situate them, facing the large picture window, "looking out over the lake and reading or working on one of your beautiful needlepoints."

Kate tilted her head and smiled at the image. "You've got such good ideas, Esme. In 15 minutes, you've painted a perfect picture of the warm, inviting home that I want to live in. How do you do that?"

I shrugged. "The ideas just pop into my head. I see a picture of how a room should be lived in. It stems from my art background, I guess."

"Well, it's a real talent. Your house is absolutely beautiful. If I can make mine look anything close to what you've got, then we'll be really happy here."

"I'm sure you will."

"Speaking of beautiful, I'm sure your party is going to be fabulous. Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?" I was planning my first annual Valentine's Day Pampering Party for the wives of all the doctors from Carlisle's medical group.

"Almost. I have a few finishing touches left to do."

"Do you think Victoria will show up?"

I rolled my eyes. "I have no idea. She hasn't RSVP'd and I'm not about to call and beg her to come."

"I can't believe you invited her at all."

"I know, but I just invited everyone. I didn't want to single anyone out. Trying to be the bigger person, you know?"

"Well, you're a much bigger person than I would be in that situation," Kate responded. "I kind of hope she doesn't come. She'll make it awkward."

"It'll be fine, Kate. Carlisle won't be there, so what could she do?"

Kate raised her eyebrows.

"What?" I wondered what she was thinking.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Esme."

"Thanks, but Carlisle has always attracted attention. I'm kind of used to it. People aren't normally as forward as Victoria, but unfortunately, I've learned to live with women ogling him," I sighed.

"You know he's only got eyes for you, right? That man worships you. Now more than ever."

I smiled, shyly.

"I don't mean to pry, but did you guys go to counseling or something? This past year or so, the two of you seem different, happier."

"Really? You've noticed?"

"Definitely. And Garrett has, too. He works so closely with Carlisle, you know. Says he's got a new spring in his step."

I snickered. "We haven't seen anyone, but we've been working through some things on our own. Trying to communicate better, you know?"

"Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. It's good to see."

"Thanks. We will." I smiled to myself.

...

The Valentine Party was a huge success among the doctor's wives. It seemed to suit the snobbier part of the group as well as the more down to earth side. The gals and I sipped champagne and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres and chocolate in between visits to vendors who were set up in different rooms of my house to help everyone prepare for Valentine's dates with their husbands. We got our nails done, backs massaged, faces exfoliated and moisturized, hair coiffed, makeup applied, and could even shop for clothes, purses, and jewelry.

Of course, the gossip was flowing, and the biggest buzz of all was the story of Victoria Hunter coming on to Carlisle (sans panties, rumor had it) and the explosive fight the Hunters had afterwards. Apparently, he had slept at the hospital for a few days after the incident.

I wasn't worried about her attending the party. Surely she wouldn't have the audacity to set foot in my home.

Or maybe she would! Her breathy, Marilyn Monroe-like voice assaulted my ears in the middle of a wonderful, relaxing massage and I instantly tensed up. _What a lot of nerve!_ The masseur wondered what had happened in the middle of my treatment. "Just an unwelcome guest, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to cut this short. It felt wonderful while it lasted."

"Victoria… What a surprise. I didn't think you'd make it," I welcomed her coldly.

"Oh, Esme, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I've heard you have a beautiful home and I've been eager to see it." She looked around with her nose turned up, seemingly unimpressed. "So sorry I didn't RSVP. I had a potential conflict with my schedule that didn't clear up until this morning." She tossed her long red curls haughtily.

"Well, lucky for you."

"Yes." She smiled, wickedly.

Kate stepped in to save me. "Victoria, you made it. We are having so much fun. You've just got to try out the…" She led her into another room with a pitying look back toward me and I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

I made a decision then and there. This was _my_ party. _My_ house. _MY_ husband. I was determined to enjoy them and would not allow Victoria to wield any control over me again. I held my head high and joined my guests, even the unwanted one.

I approached Kate and our friend Diana.

"…couldn't believe it. She was just pulling ideas out of her head right and left. And they were just perfect. The designer we hired has been working on it for two months and has yet to come up with _anything_ that I like."

"Esme's incredible. Just look at this. It's like looking out onto a little street in Europe or something. The fountain and the café table and the stones… and the street lamp—what a great touch! I bet she's got beautiful flowers all around it in the summer, too."

"Hi girls. Are you having fun?"

"Oh, Esme," Diana enthused, "we were admiring your patio. It's like looking out the French doors into another time and place. It's absolutely beautiful."

"Oh, thank you. I just re-did that. It's my little corner of Paris, right here in Seattle," I sighed wistfully, making the girls laugh.

Victoria overheard us as she walked past with a plate full of hors d'oeuvres. "Hmm. It is very quaint," she sniffed nodding toward the patio. "It looks like something from one of the _older_ areas. We didn't spend much time _there_.

Jamie took me to Paris last year. We stayed right along the Champs Elysees and ate at three different Michelin-rated restaurants. 'Nothing but the best for my best girl' he said!" she cooed. "I had just… well, _lost some weight_, and he took me shopping at _all_ the designer showrooms because he wanted me to get something pretty to show off my pretty new ass. Isn't that sweet?"

_Classy! _I thought as I nodded and smiled_. _

"I just love my plastic surgeon," she whispered behind her hand, "I can give you his name if anyone's interested." She looked condescendingly at Diana, who had been struggling to lose the baby weight she'd gained last year. Then she looked at me, "He's great with boobs, too, if you know anyone who needs some."

"Hmm. No thanks! But it sounds like you had a nice trip," I responded dryly.

"It was wonderful. You should go there sometime, Esme. It may give you some more ideas if this," she waved her hand toward the patio, "is your thing."

"Well, actually…"

She interrupted, raising her voice so others would be sure to hear her boasting. "I personally like a more modern look. Siobhan O'Leary designed _my_ house. Did you see her work last spring in Architectural Digest? She's the very best interior designer in all of the Pacific Northwest."

Thankfully, I was called away. A hostess's job is never done. And sometimes, I learned, it's a messy job. I had one of those new chocolate fountains on the snack table. Someone had accidentally dropped a strawberry in and it clogged the pump. As I tried to fish it out, the darn thing splattered chocolate all over my white silk blouse. I rushed upstairs to soak it and change into something clean, stopping short when I found someone in my bedroom. It was Victoria, standing next to my bed.

"What are you doing in here?" I demanded.

"Oh, just admiring the rest of your house." She smiled and turned to face me, one hand tapping the tall bedpost. "This is where the magic happens, huh?" she purred, smacking her lips. I was dumbfounded for a moment. "I love what you've done in here." She sat down and ran her hands along the comforter.

"Get up! What is your problem?" I yelled. "For heaven's sake, he's _married_. HAPPILY! I shouldn't need to remind you that _you're_ married, too."

Victoria rolled her eyes, "Yes, well..." she shook her head with a look of chagrin and then narrowed her eyes at me. "I just wanted to return the favor."

"What?"

"Don't play coy with me," she snapped.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Victoria. Now get your liposuctioned butt off my bed. NOW!"

She stood, towering over me in her Gucci heels from Paris and poking me in the chest. "Keep your mitts off my husband," she demanded.

"What? You're the one chasing MY husband!"

She groaned. "You really have no clue, do you? How he looks at you every time we come to one of these stupid doctor parties? How every week I have to hear him go on and on about how 'Esme brought Carlisle lunch today' and all the gourmet meals you make him. You're just the perfect little domestic wifey that Jamie's always wanted."

I was shocked. "What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Esme, it doesn't suit you. You know exactly what you're doing. You turn all the doctors' heads and then have a party just for their wives. Butter them up and get them to like you so they won't poke your eyes out, huh? It's a pretty shrewd move. I'm just trying to beat you at your own game. You've got my husband's attention, so I want yours."

"Victoria, I have never flirted with Dr. Hunter or any of Carlisle's other colleagues. I don't know where you're getting these ideas, but they're completely unwarranted.

YOU, on the other hand, have made a spectacle of yourself, behaving like a common slut around Carlisle. Your shenanigans last week were all anyone could talk about downstairs before you got here. How do you think that makes your husband feel?"

Victoria was taken aback, "Uh…"

"Maybe if you turned your attention toward your own husband, you wouldn't have to chase after other people's. I have no interest in James. If he has some sort of attraction to me, that's his problem, and yours. But Carlisle? Carlisle is MINE. He has been since he was 19 years old and I do everything I can to keep his attention on ME, so Back. The Hell. Off."

"Hmph!" She tossed her orange mop of hair. "That's ok. I've given up on Carlisle anyway. He's the only man I've ever met who's immune to this." She ran her hand down her body. "He may have a pretty face, but he's way too repressed for me." She laughed, "Either that, or he's GAY."

"You left an option out, Victoria." She turned her head to the side, questioning. "Maybe he's not interested in you because he's completely and utterly satisfied with _me_."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.

"Get out. Get out of my room. Get out of my home. And don't come back. Ever." I stood, one hand on my hip, pointing at the door until she slithered away. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves, and rushed to change my chocolate-splattered blouse. I sighed with relief when I heard the door slam downstairs.

...

"You're kidding. She just left?" Carlisle lifted a bite to his mouth at dinner that night. We were enjoying Valentine's Day at a fancy and kid-free restaurant.

"Well, I think she left part of her tires on our street, but, yes, she just stormed off."

"I wish I could have seen that. My big, strong girl." He grinned.

I shrugged. "What can I say? I've gotta protect my man."

He shook his head in amazement. "So this was all about jealousy and revenge, huh? Unbelievable."

"Carlisle, you have to know that I've never done anything to encourage Dr. Hunter. I've never even noticed…"

"Of course not, Es. If Hunter really has taken a shine to you, he's been smart enough to keep it to himself. Although he does ask me about your excellent cooking! Yours is better than this, you know," he indicated his plate.

"You think so?" My heart filled with gratitude. I reached across the table to stroke his cheek and he gazed silently into my eyes, drowning me in a sea of bright Caribbean blue. He turned his face toward my hand, grazing it with his soft lips,captivating me as I brushed my fingers around the curve of his ear and trailed them softly along his jaw. I dropped my hand to the table where his awaited, catching mine and locking our fingers to join our locked eyes.

Carlisle and I enjoyed a wonderful Valentine's dinner date. It was such an improvement over the year before. We talked, we laughed, we loved. Awkward, uncomfortable silences were a thing of the past. Stilted, cold conversations focused on work or the boys were left behind, replaced by the witty, affectionate banter of two people in love. I was disappointed that it had come to an end as we stood in the cold February air, waiting for the valet to bring the car around. Carlisle stood behind me and wrapped me in his arms and his coat, complaining that the shawl I'd brought was not enough.

"It goes with the dress."

"It's not the dress I care about. See, you're freezing." His hand wandered into territory not fit for public viewing and found proof of my chill. Luckily, it was hidden by his coat.

I squealed, "Carlisle! Your hands are freezing! Keep those to yourself, you naughty boy!" I reached around and smacked his backside playfully.

He chuckled and guided me toward the car. "Just trying to help warm you up!"

"Hey, did I tell you about Emmett?" The valet closed my door as Carlisle slammed his and cranked up the heater. "I think he has a little crush."

"Really?" Carlisle's eyes lit up with amusement as I described how our normally outgoing son had become very shy and quiet when the object of his affection pulled his valentine from her box during the party at school. When she looked across the room and smiled at him, he blushed. It was adorable. And he was in such a good mood, he didn't tease his brother all afternoon.

"Well," Carlisle noted, blowing out a gust of air, "I guess it's time to have a father-son talk." I gasped at yet another realization that our little boy was growing up.

I shared my thoughts about looking for a job and was surprised that my husband supported me either way, offering some helpful suggestions. He didn't try to talk me out of it. He didn't focus on the negatives that would come of it. He only wanted me to feel happy and fulfilled. _Wow. Who is this guy?_

"Where are we going?" I was bewildered as Carlisle bypassed the exit that led home and zipped along the freeway, taking us deeper into the city. We parked under a downtown high rise and took the elevator all the way to the top. The doors slid open and we were met with loud music, flashing lights, and a neon sign that read "Twilight."

"You're taking me dancing?" I looked at him curiously. He hates to dance. I couldn't remember if he'd EVER taken me to a club before. We'd danced a little at weddings, the annual hospital holiday party, various fundraising galas, and maybe once or twice on vacations before we had kids, but clubs were strictly girls' night out territory for me, and even that had been at least a few years.

"You love it," he answered, "and I want you to have fun tonight."

"You are so, so sweet." I punctuated my words with quick kisses, gave him a big hug and pulled him toward the bar. He definitely needed to relax a little first. We didn't stay long. He bounced and swayed awkwardly through The B-52s Love Shack (one of Emmett's favorites) and two or three other songs before pulling me close for a slow dance.

I was relieved for the slow song, to be honest. It's difficult to let loose with him because he's so uncomfortable and he dances like… well, like a 41 year old white guy. Kind of embarrassing.

Carlisle more than made up for it with the slow dance, though. The Wilson sisters' sultry crooning of "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" was so sexy. To hear that while Carlisle's body was pressed against mine, his hands smoothing down my back and resting low on my hips, his hot breath in my ear, his musky scent mingled with his subtle cologne as our hips swayed together to the music made me melt.

"Take me home," I murmured into his ear as the song drew to a close. In 20 minutes, we were there, sending the babysitter on her way. In five more we were in our bedroom, naked, our clothes littering a trail to the bed where we'd dropped them as soon as the door clicked shut behind us. Carlisle found the Fantasy Basket card I'd left on his pillow earlier and set it on the bedside table without looking at it. "Later. I want you, now." He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me toward him.

I nodded urgently and sat on his lap, straddling him. I rubbed my pelvis against his as we kissed,coating him with my arousal, and then I leaned back and perched a little higher, guiding him into me as I slid down onto his lap with a moan. He thrust his hips upward as I used my knees to lift and drop my body around his, over and over.

Moments later, we stilled. He filled me completely. I sighed and began to swivel my hips, grunting with each revolution as he hit my sweet spot. He took my nipples into his mouth, one after the other, kissing and sucking as I dug my fingers into his shoulders, so close to bliss. I sped my hips up and began panting quickly, calling out to God as I finally exploded with pulses of searing heat and light.

As I calmed down, he continued, laying back on the bed for a new, even deeper angle. I leaned forward and placed my hands on his chest as I moved my hips with his, lightheaded and needing the leverage to keep my balance.

I lay down over him, grasping one shoulder and pulling, urging him to roll us. "Ohhhh," I moaned when felt his weight and his heat cover me as he resumed his thrusting. "Ohhhh yes. That's so good." I lifted my knees and used my feet against the bed to push up into him with all my might, closer… harder… more… He sped and arched his back, pressing into me harder… closer… faster. He suddenly jerked and tensed, groaning loudly.

I watched his face in awe as he came—eyes squeezed shut, jaw tightly clenched one moment, and completely relaxed the next. He smiled and touched his forehead to mine.

"Mmm… I love you," he hummed into my ear.

"Thanks for being my Valentine," I returned. We cuddled together for awhile, parting reluctantly so that we could clean up and prepare for sleep. When I came back to bed after picking up my discarded clothes and washing my face, I found him reading the rejected fantasy card.

"This sounds delicious." He grinned. "Can we try it on Tuesday?"

"Sure," I promised.

"Twice in one week, huh?"

"I think I can find room in my schedule."

"There's a new study out, you know," he told me.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. They showed conclusively that people who make love twice a week add three years onto their lives. In terms of heart health, anyway."

"So they get to enjoy each other, what is it… 300-something more times?"

"Ha—I never thought of it that way. It'd be 312."

"312. We can't forget those extra 12. That used to be a whole year's worth for us."

"That was all? No! Really?"

I nodded.

"Well, we've got some catching up to do." He snickered and pulled me to his chest, spooning. "Good night, my love. Happy Valentine's Day." He kissed my temple as he held me close and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N**

**Thanks to Dr. Oz for the fun heart health fact. I know he wasn't doing his thing in 1990, but let's pretend he was.**

**Do you have a favorite Valentine's memory? Please leave me a review and I'll send you the fantasy from the card they set aside so you can share it with your special someone. **

**Besotted helps me spell the French words right. Thanks for that, and everything else!**

**Thanks for reading! **

**JEN **


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